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LEATHER & LACE
GRAFFITI STREET RED LIPSTICK
BRYNN HALE
 Want more mountain men, bad boys, firefighters, and more?
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Copyright © 2023 by Brynn Hale

All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and
retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contact Brynn at brynnhaleauthor@gmail.com for more information.
 CONTENTS

DEDICATION
LEATHER & LACE INFO
RULES OF THE RED LIPSTICK MC CREW

1. REIGN
2. AVIEL
3. REIGN
4. AVIEL
5. REIGN
6. AVIEL
7. REIGN
EPILOGUE

Also by Brynn Hale

About Brynn Hale
 DEDICATION

In the early 20 th Century, red lipstick was associated with power and strength, especially during
the Suffragettes movement. The Suffragettes believed in peaceful protest and chose to wear
red lipstick as part of their uniform while fighting for the rights of women to vote. The red
symbolized the bold and dauntless, yet feminine, women who dared to be powerful and champion
for change. It was symbolic of strength while faced with opposition from those who were trying
to strip that away from women.
The women of the Red Lipstick Crew of Graffiti Street have faced their own adversity. Many
have climbed ladders previously meant for men, many have saved other women from fates that
broke their spirits, and many take a chance to change the world one cause at a time.
I dedicate this series to all women who wear red lipstick. It’s time to support each other in
whatever we do, and go for your dreams, whatever your dream is.
Find your shade of red to wear today!
 LEATHER & LACE INFO

Reign
I came to Kildare for work. It's all part of my plan.
But losing my job wasn't in the plans. And right before Christmas.
And now I'm going to be kicked out of my place.
I take up residence, secretly at the Twisted Sisterhood Sanctuary.
My pride is as big as my backside. And it's big.
But when Aviel, the head of security for the Hard Brake, attached to the Sanctuary catches me,
I can't help but want to be caught by him.
He offers me a place to stay... but does it come with strings?

Aviel
I don't know her story, but I'm ready to listen.
Reign's known for being the loud one at Red Lipstick, but I think it's a cover.
But for what? Pain? A past? Hard life?
When I try to get close, she pushes me away.
And the one time I let her go, she gets in an accident and almost stolen from my life.
I'll give up myself to save her.
There's no strings attached when it comes to my love.

Red Lipstick instalove, short stories are fast-moving, action-packed romantic suspense stories that
will have you turning pages faster than the rotation of a motorcycle's tires. No cliffhangers. No
cheating.
If you love short romances with steamy sex scenes and a suspenseful love story, then you’ll love
this book.
 RULES OF THE RED LIPSTICK MC CREW

Rules of the Red Lipstick MC Crew

1. Club business stays inside the club. If you start opening your two lips, you’ll be out before you
know it.

2. If you’re in semi-trouble, call Slater of the Guardians at (333) 222-5555 and they’ll send help.
If you’re in real trouble, call 911. Tell the police that you’re with us and they’ll wait for Gia to
arrive. DON’T. SAY. ANYTHING!

3. We take care of our own. If you are a member, you are expected to jump in and help when we
need it. Everyone does chores. Everyone.

4. We all have shit from our pasts. Share your past, but don’t let that past dictate your future.
You are more than the events and people who made you.

5. You earn your place in the Red Lipstick MC Crew. What you earn, you can lose.

6. Once a month we’re all in a bad mood. Don’t bring that mood into the MC or Hard Brake.
You go at another Red Lipstick Crew member and you’ll have bigger problems than PMS.
 1 REIGN

“WHAT ABOUT YOU, REIGN ?” Gia Maldese rubs her growing stomach. “You have any resolutions?”
In my mind, there are two types of people who make New Year’s resolutions. Those who desire
to make real changes and have the ability —money, time, resources— to make them, and those who
want changes but find themselves stuck in some painful loop that they can’t get out of to make
changes. I fall into the second category. I need a change. I want to fix what’s broken and have the life I
dream of. But alas, there is no chalkboard of life and wiping the slate clean and starting over seems
like a pipe dream.
Those aren’t the good kinds of dreams. Actually, it’s almost a nightmare.
I’ve hit rock bottom and all the resolutions in the world won’t change the shit I’ve been through or
what might be ahead. And that’s part of the problem. My past is part of my present and future. I’d be
dreaming if I thought otherwise.
And if I told people the truth about my circumstances, they’d look at me differently. So I hide
behind leather and lace. Leather for an edge that seems to keep people away and lace for a softness
against my skin to remind me that I’m more than resting bitch face. More leather, less lace.
Plus, as part of the Red Lipstick Motorcycle Club, leather isn’t optional. If you ride, you’re head-
to-toe protected— it’s not a suggestion. Thankfully, we get more good days of weather in January in
Nevada than bad ones, and I took the bike out for a stroll through the town and outskirts today. Mostly
to forget what’s happening in life.
And at 180 M.P.H. speed takes away my cares. I know, I know… it also could take me away, but
the risk is worth the reward to me, unlike many things in life.
And now back at Hard Brake bar, I’m nursing a craft brew from a local brewery, Two Twisted
Brews. A nice heavy, winter stout with coffee and vanilla notes, and I’m surrounded by people. With
these people my ability to guard myself is more a mesh net than a wall.
Maintaining space was working, until I found the Red Lipstick crew. They’re the only people I’ve
let into my inner circle— Gia, her sister Shea, Bree, Exie, and Taren. That’s it. I don’t talk to anyone
else. Gia’s boyfriend, Beck, has tried. Nope. Guys in the Guardians MC club next door have put forth
a valiant effort. Not a chance.
Being kicked out at sixteen from my childhood home taught me to hold my trust close. It’s not an
infinite well. It’s more like an inkwell and I dip into it occasionally, giving those who deserve access
to the real me the ink and permission to write our story.
But do I even know the real me or my story? Seems more like a horror novel right now.
A hand lands on my forearm and I jump.
“Hey, it’s just me.” Gia’s child is going to be one lucky baby. Her voice is so soothing.
 I look around. Everyone has gotten up and are standing at the bar. We’re alone.
“How long was I out?” I ask, my eyes staying fixed on my beer.
“Not long. They just know that when you don’t answer, you’re not going to and need time.”
“Sor—”
“Nope. Sorry for cutting you off, but remember, only apologize for doing wrong to others, not
doing right for yourself.”
I blow out a long breath. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Gia.”
“I think you’re having a pint and enjoying dreaming of possibilities in a new year.”
If only…
“Not quite, but the pint is good.” I take another sip.
All I can think about is what I’m going back to after this.
A cold storage unit.
No one knows I lost my job as an assistant to a local lawyer, who was an über dick, last year and
my savings dwindled quickly with a landlord who started being a dick, too. See a trend here all the
men in my life tend toward the quality. He began raising my rates monthly since he wouldn’t do a
year’s contract. And soon, I had to make a choice. Sell my bike, something I swore and still swear I’ll
never do, or move everything to a storage unit, including myself, until I can find a new gig.
The front door of the bar opens. The bar’s bouncer, Aviel, comes in, and what I get a glimpse of
outside makes me chill to my bone marrow. It’s not Aviel causing the feeling, he’s like the sun hot and
sultry and every woman in the bar does a side-eye gaze, even the married ones can’t help themselves.
He slicks his hair back, the black strands shiny and wet.
It’s raining outside and not a soft gentle rain, it’s a pounding pour.
Shit.
Riding back to the unit miles away isn’t going to happen.
“Is there anything I can do?” Gia asks as her boyfriend Beck comes out from behind the counter.
He only works when needed. He’s more of the financial side now.
I shake my head as he nears.
He sighs but I don’t feel bad dismissing her offer. I can’t. I just can’t. My pride is bigger than my
ass, and my backside has its own zip code most days.
Beck grabs the top rung of a chair. “Okay. Aviel’s going to take the last cash run and then I think
we should close up. Another cool front is coming through and they’re thinking iced or at least frosted
roads by morning. I need to get my babies home.” He leans over and kisses Gia’s forehead and I
swear she swoons in front of me.
My stomach curls inside of me. Partly because of how sweet Beck is, partly because the green-
eyed monster who lives inside of me sees the scene, and partly because I need to find a place to stay
where there are very few questions.
I watch Shea, the bar manager, hand over the money bag to Aviel. She used to have a crush on
Aviel, but I think she’s seeing Guardian member, Snake, or at least flirting with him.
Shea flirts with everyone. It’s her protective bubble. We all have one.
Mine is my ability to not come clean. And my trust. And…
Fuck… I need to get my shit together.
Next door is a women’s shelter, Twisted Sisterhood Sanctuary. Gia runs the life-saving haven
with proceeds from the bar and the help of the Guardians MC. And although it’s probably packed,
there are cots in some of the storage rooms. I helped move them there. Or if they’ve been moved, I
can probably find an empty room on the Guardians’ side to hide-out in. Hell, I’ll sleep in a bathroom
stall for a warm place to stay at this point.
And this might be my chance. The locked door between the bar and shelter will be open for a few
seconds, if I can just sneak in behind Aviel.
I check my pockets. Charger for my phone, check. Keys to my bike, check. My stomach growls.
That beer really isn’t liquid food, but it’ll have to do for now. I ate lunch. I’ll be fine. Plus, cold soup
out of a can is what’s waiting back at the storage unit. Not exactly five-star dining, but it’s filling and
there are plenty with less.
Need to remember that.
“Gotta hit the head and then I’m heading out.”
“Hope to see you for Saturday’s ride,” Gia says as I stand.
I don’t answer and I’m across the room in seconds.
My bike is inside of the Red Lipstick garage, so it’s safe.
But am I?
 2 AVIEL

THERE’ S a new sound in the hallway. Behind me. It’s in my blood to hear around me, everywhere.
And Reign Starden’s step is anything but quiet. She’s carrying some massive backside weight and it
makes her foot fall a little heavy, especially in those sexy AF black leather motorcycle boots. But
even if I know the what of what’s happening—that she’s following me, I’m not sure of the why—why
is she following me and why does she think it’s a smart move?
It's not.
I make it to the office and split off. I leave the door open, and she slips past as if an apparition,
not looking toward me. I lock up the last money bag of the night and become the stalker versus the
stalked. She probably knows her way around having volunteered in the shelter-side many times.
I glance around the corner. Reign stops at a door. She looks up, her face tight, those bright red
lipstick covered lips pursed tight —either stress or fear— and closes her eyes, as if saying a prayer.
From the side, her leather riding jacket cups every dangerous curve of her luscious body, rising up to
show the soft skin. She’s safely covered and protecting that mind-bending body when riding and I
appreciate that.
Personally, I don’t ride. Not that I can’t, but I’ve dodged death so many times that I don’t need to
be tempting fate.
She turns the knob and when the latch releases, she lets out a long sigh. The sound hits me in the
chest. I’ve been there, holding my breath, hoping for the best, and the feeling when the tension
releases. Almost better than sex… almost.
But why is she happy that the storage room is unlocked?
She closes the door behind her, and I hear a chair slide across the concrete floor and go against
the door.
Won’t really do any good. The door opens in, but if it makes her feel better…
I remember that Gia needs me to lock up Hard Brake, so I head back to that side. I don’t know if
I’ll ask her about Reign or keep it to myself. This seems like a play-it-by-ear situation.
I do a quick round of the shelter and check in with the front desk. Everything’s clear. I walk back
by the door to the storage room, a tiny streak of light sneaks from under the bottom edge. Like she has
her phone on in the dark. I stop and lean to the door. There’s a little noise and then a small giggle.
Videos? Movie? Writing with her boyfriend?
I’ve never seen Reign with anyone. She’s quite an enigma. I’ll often catch her smiling, but if she
knows someone is watching her, she’ll do everything to stop the gesture. And this woman’s smile…
it’s special. Like a sparkling star in the midst of a cloudy night.
I decide to move on. She seems okay in there and sometimes giving people time is the best way to
handle it.
Back at Hard Brake, I check the bathrooms for stragglers, turn off the lights, and double-check the
doors. I take security seriously. When I’m not doing my other job, one that I can’t say a whole lot
about to anyone, I’m here. Hard Brake and the Twisted Sister Sanctuary are my home. I stay on the
Guardians’ side, but tonight I’m thinking I’ll stay on duty.
Something is up.
I look out the front window and realize that the temps have plummeted. The road is shiny and
there are tiny drips of ice hanging from the light outside. Black ice.
Maybe that’s why Reign’s here? She didn’t think she could make it home. But she only lives two
blocks away. I dropped her off when her bike had a flat.
The quietest ride of my life.
Her need to be here is still a mystery and I’m not sure I’m going to figure out the truth tonight. It’s
been a long day and I’m ready to chill out with my latest book. I’m into the classics right now,
Hemmingway, Steinbeck, Poe, Austen. I can read a romance once in a while. Plus, Pride and
Prejudice is more than a romance. It’s a man finding himself in the pursuit of a woman. I’ve tried to
be the man that women want, but most can’t deal with my side gig.
It's been a lot for me, too, lately.
I lock the door between the bar and the women’s shelter. It’s a long hallway.
And I should turn to the right and go to the men’s side at the Guardians MC, but something has me
turning left again and going to the shelter.
Maybe it’s my training. As ex-Israeli military, Sayeret Yahalom, engineering Special Forces, my
specialty was bomb disposal. Diffusing risky situations is perfect for the Hard Brake where a few
patrons have an extremely short fuse especially when you add liquid courage to the situation. But this
will take a finessing that even my skills might not be ready for.
My curiosity is worse than a cat’s. I make my way to the storage room.
The door doesn’t lock. I could open it, but I slide down the wall and wait. She drank a beer,
sixteen ounces. If I know a woman, she’s going to need to use the bathroom. The shelter manager,
Maggie, is in bed for the night. The security guard won’t think anything about me being in the hallway
on the security cameras. And I often sleep sitting up, so if I sit here, it’ll be no big deal.
Heck, sleeping standing up is my hidden talent.
That and having a heightened alert that’s not healthy for anyone. Fight or flight doesn’t exist for
me. It’s a part of my past that has stuck around. I’m always on edge and what’s normal for me, isn’t
normal for most.
And then I hear a sound.
I push to stand, leaning toward the door, my hands gripping the metal flashing of the door frame.
And there it is again.
My heart stops.
I hold my breath to make sure I’m hearing what I think I’m hearing.
The soft whimpers of someone who is in pain, whether physically or mentally or emotionally,
pulls me closer to the door. I raise my hand to knock but think better of it.
I grab the doorknob and blow out a long breath similar to what Reign did before going in. I turn
and push, the chair slides across the floor with an eerie creak.
In seconds, I’m in darkness and there’s silence.
“Reign?” I breathe out her name.
But there’s no answer.
 3 REIGN

IF I STAY SILENT , maybe he’ll go away. I’m barricaded behind some boxes on a cot. I try to calm my
breathing. I lost my cool for just a moment watching one of those ridiculous videos of rescue dogs
getting their happily ever after.
Everyone deserves their happily ever after.
But right now, I just need a happily for tonight.
“Reign, I know you’re in here. You’re not a ghost or a ninja.”
I huff. “But you are.”
Sometimes Aviel’s both. He’s so elusive and ephemeral in his presence. When he breaks up a
fight at Hard Brake, it’s like he comes out of thin air and yet, he was there all the time.
I should’ve known he’d see me. Clearly, he has eyes in the back of his head.
“Definitely have the training and experience to be both.” He chuckles a little and the sound has me
relaxing a tiny bit. I’m probably not in real trouble, more the kind of trouble that’s the WTF are you
doing? type.
He doesn’t turn on the harsh fluorescent overhead light and in lots of ways that’s as comforting as
a blanket. I don’t want to look into his eyes and answer questions. The answers might not be as heavy
or significant in the black of the room.
“Reign, what’s really going on?” His Hebrew accent coats the “o”s with a roundness and he rolls
the “R” of my name until I feel the rumble deep in my gut.
I sit up quickly. My stomach rides a rolling wave and then rumbles loudly, echoing the grumble
into the small space.
He huffs. “Did you eat dinner?” He huffs again after a few seconds of no answer. “Reign, did you
eat?”
“I had a beer.”
“That’s not dinner.”
His face lights up from his phone. His chiseled jawline is taut, and the black run of beard under
his cheekbone to his neck only makes looks sharper. His hair is a little longer than I ever remember,
like he hasn’t had time to get it cut. There was a period of about eight weeks where he wasn’t here. I
figured he went home. He usually does once a year, but then he comes back from Israel with a pep in
his step. This time he was sullen and withdrawn, but it was a short walk for him to be those things, so
maybe it was just his new normal.
I’ve got one of those, too. Living in a storage unit or room. New, but not normal.
He moves closer and I sit straighter. He reaches out, his hand so big.
“Come. I make you something to eat.”
 “But…”
“No one is in Hard Brake. It’ll be fine.”
For a man who could snap someone’s neck with his pinkie, he’s being awfully sweet.
And it’s a little uncomfortable.
“Just something small. I’ll… I’ll pay for it.”
I’ve still got a little cash to my name. Less than needed to rent a place, but I can pay. I just forgot
to eat. It happens.
I slip my hand into his as his phone light turns off when he shoves it in his pocket. Aviel steps
back, pulling me to stand. As I do, my boots tangle in my leather coat on the floor and I flail like a
toddler toward him.
“Shit!” I grumble. My arms grab for purchase in his long sleeve Henley. My face plants into his
abs, and his hand clasps my upper arm, keeping me semi-upright. His hold is secure but not crushing.
I go any lower and I’ll be face to face with what I’m sure is bound to be as surprising as Aviel
is.
“Sorry…sorry!” I mumble against a plane of hard human.
The sound I hear is something between the growl of a tiger and the whimper of a tiny kitten. I
regain my footing and stand straight. Our bodies brush in the darkness. His hand slips to my waist, the
rough pads of his fingers brush against the bare skin on my hip, his thumb strums against my hip bone.
I don’t dare say something. Anything. I just want to be next to him. He’s warm and I’m a little
chilled.
The sound of boots in the hallway makes me tense.
“It’s just security.” His voice surprises me right next to my ear. “I’ve got you, my poppy.”
I swallow and ask on a whisper, “Poppy?”
“It’s the most beautiful flower in my home country. Called calanit in my native Hebrew tongue.”
My heart starts to pound and I swear he can hear the thudding. My ears echo with the whoosh
whoosh.
His lips brush the curve of my ear. “You are beautiful Reign,” he whispers, his breath tickling my
ear.
“You are surprising, Aviel,” my breath is heavy and breathy.
The scruff on his cheek rustles across my ear, sending shivers up and down my spine. “You have
no idea.”
But I might like to find out.
 4 AVIEL

S HE’ S DEVOURING the grilled cheese like she hasn’t eaten in days and that worries me. “Dang, Aviel,
this is amazing, delicious.”
“One of the few things I can cook that isn’t falafel, hummus, bourekas, shakshuka, or shawarma.”
“Never had any of those, but they sound delicious, too.” She licks her fingers and my body rockets
blood to my crotch imagining her tongue rounding a part of me.
“Then you haven’t lived. There are spices for each and they make love to a person’s palate.”
She stills. “I guess I really haven’t lived, at least not in the way you probably have.” Her big
brown eyes look into mine. “Tell me about how you’ve lived, Aviel.”
“It would scare you,” I say, trying to warn her off. “Probably not a good idea.”
“Very little scares me these days.”
“Okay, I will tell you.”
Her face lights up.
I continue, “After you tell me why you were sleeping in the storage room.”
Her face falls. “Long story.”
“I’m not going anywhere…” I point to the door. “It’s not safe out there.”
“But is it safe in here?” her voice is a little huskier.
“You are safe with me, my poppy. Now… spill.”
She sighs. “Short version, I lost my job because my boss is a jerk. Then I lost my apartment
because my landlord was a jerk. And I’m living in a storage unit, away from any jerks.”
My jaw tightens and I fear breaking my teeth. “What kinds of jerks were they?”
“Not the touchy kind… well, there was that one time with my boss… but more of the manipulative
and ridiculously annoying kinds.”
I inhale a shaky breath. “No man should be a jerk.”
She rolls her eyes. “From your mouth to the gods’ ears.”
“But you live in a storage unit? That’s not good. There are rooms in the shelter—”
“I’m not taking a room from someone who is homeless because of domestic violence or even
something worse. They need this place. I just have temporary crap happening.” She yawns and I can
see the edges of her eyes droop.
I stand and clear away the dishes. “Now I take you to my bed.”
Her face contorts and she blurts, “Not a chance! I can’t believe you. Just like every other jerk. I
thought I could trust you!”
I hear what I’ve said I repeat it in my head. “No! I mean, I have a bed—”
She hold a up a hand and stands, her arms cross on her chest. “I don’t know what you think, but
you can’t just make a girl a meal—”
“No!” I get into her space. “Just no. Listen to me.”
Oh, geez, this woman is like dry dynamite. She’s ready to ignite into a flash fury in seconds.
I continue, “You shall sleep in my bed. I will go to the living room, read my book, and rest.”
Her gaze darts to the ground. “So you weren’t insinuating that we… should…”
I take the two steps to close the distance between us, lifting her chin. The broken woman inside of
her wants so much, but she holds herself back from having it all. “Reign, if ever I earn the honor to
make love to you, I will pleasure you like no man ever has. But until that day, my bed is yours to
use… alone.”
“Thank you,” she whispers and a small shiver rolls through her shoulders.
It takes all my strength not to kiss this fireball of a woman.
But if I ever get the opportunity… will she be safe… will I?

“NO , I’ M NOT DOING IT .” I pace in the garage where the Guardians keep their bikes. Shiny chrome,
bounces the red “Exit” signs everywhere in the darkness. There is safety in the darkness.
“You have six months left on your contract, Zvi. You’re really not in a place to say no. I’ll remind
you that your citizenship depends on it.”
“Fine. Send me the dossier and I’ll let you know.”
“We need a quick turn around. Starting tomorrow.”
“Of course you do. But, Agent Reva, if I do this, I’m done.”
There’s a long pause and muffling sounds, his hand’s over the mic.
A throat clears before someone comes on the line. “Agent Zvi, if you complete this task, you’ll
fulfill your commitment to the Bureau and we’ll seal your case and your citizenship will be made
permanent. But… you will not be allowed to return to Israel.”
My heart sinks. “Never?”
“Ever. There would be too big a risk to you and to our agents who are over there as you have
been photographed with them as recently as two months ago.”
“I’m not allowed to see friends.”
“Not when you’re putting them in danger.”
I close my eyes and tip my head back, remembering how Reign did the same thing. Am I praying?
No. Am I fearful? No. Am I regretting some life choices? Yes.
“Fine. I will not return.”
“And no contact.”
“So I’m going to be dead to my family, too.”
“It’s for their protection, Aviel,” Agent Pilea’s voice softens and it kicks me in the gut.
They’re right.
I sigh. “I understand. I’ll review the dossier and be ready to go tomorrow.”
“If there was any other—”
“There’s not, I know. But this is the last one, Pilea. Last.”
“Understood.”
I open my eyes and although there’s no light in the room, I can see the end of the black tunnel that
is my life. The darkness will be no more and my duty to my new country will be paid. In full.
 I was always taking a risk going back to my home country anyway. I had to plane into a close
country and sneak my way in. They’ve probably protected myself from me.
Heading back into the Great Bin —living room of the Graffiti Street Guardians MC— I still when
I hear bare feet padding down the hallway. I opened the door to my bedroom and let Reign in and then
closed it behind her with a simple, “Goodnight.”
Nothing more. Nothing less.
Hoping to stay out of the “jerk” category that she’s amassing names in.
But as far as I know, there are no other women on that side of the building and none of the
Guardians would come out without their boots on.
When she rounds the corner, she’s wearing one of my T-shirts— The Rolling Stones has never
looked so sexy. She’s pulling the hem to cover her front, without realizing the move is exposing her
backside beautifully.
“Reign?” I call out softly and she startles.
“Aviel… I… I can’t…” her chin quivers and my chest burns with a need to hold her. The light
catches on her eyes and the swell of tears threatening to fall over.
I take long strides and I’m there in five steps. My arms wrap her up and I pull her to my chest.
She’s shaking, her chest hiccupping, and tears stain my shirt.
“What happened?” I’m instantly on guard, my eyes darting the room.
“Bad…” she hiccups.
“Who?” I will kill them.
“Nightmare.”
My shoulders settle from their tense position and now my heart speeds. “Oh, poppy, it’s okay. I’m
here.”
She snuggles in and then I notice that she’s not wearing a bra. My body reacts before I can stop it
and I cuss at myself. Jerk.
But she doesn’t move away. If anything, she wiggles closer… and against me.
“Reign,” I warn, myself and less her. “What are you doing?” I look down and her mouth is open in
a pert “O”.
“Wow, that’s… impressive.”
I chuckle lightly. “I think thank you. But I’m sorry. My body reacts to you. It wants you.”
“Do you want me?”
“I do, but I want you to be ready to be mine. You can trust me, Reign.”
She sucks in a quick breath like those words have a kickback. “I’m so messed up, Aviel. You
wouldn’t want me to be yours.”
“I decide what I want and who I want. Your circumstances are changeable. Your heart is still
beautiful. I saw you helping Shea clean up the Hard Brake this evening when you didn’t have to. I
know you took meals to Gia when she was on bed rest. And I’ve seen you smile at children when you
thought no one was looking.”
“Where were you? I don’t remember you being there any of those times.”
“I was there.”
“You’re like smoke, and I’m wondering when you’ll dissipate into the wild.”
I have to be honest with her. “Come with me.” I slip my hand into hers and head back to my bin—
my bedroom on the Guardians side.
When we’re in the room, I motion for her to sit on the bed.
“You need to know something. Something that might change how you see me.”
 She tips her head. “You look… and I can’t believe I’m going to say this… scared.”
“I am.” Admitting it almost takes me to my knees. “Reign, I have watched you from afar for
months. My heart beats fast when you’re near. There’s something my body knows about you and I
know you’ve been hiding so much inside. I can see that you struggle with being yourself and—”
“And you don’t?!” she bites back with a pained expression, and I can see that I’ve been a jerk.
Relating to people is not one of my superpowers, but I’m trying here.
“I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, my poppy.”
“Don’t ‘my poppy’ me!” She stands and I stop her at the door. “I’m not sure why you brought me
back here if it’s just to—”
I press my lips to hers and she whimpers. Her hands betray her anger as they rise along my
stomach to my neck, making sure to keep our lips pressed together. Her tongue darts out asking for
entry and I start to open my mouth, but I can’t let this get further. I need to tell her everything before
anything can happen.
I break away. We both gasp for breath. “We both struggle to trust, Reign. I’m trying to tell you my
story so you can decide if you’re okay with how I hide.”
She tips her head. “You hide?”
“In the open and in the darkness.”
The soft smile that covers her face encourages me. I motion to the bed and she takes a seat.
“For ten years, I watched dozens of my men become pink mist in the blink of an eye. For some
reason, I was chosen by the gods to only watch them be disintegrated by unpredictable ordinances,
bombs, and people who had only ill will in their hearts, and yet I never faced the same fate myself
while part of the Sayeret Yahalom. The highest sector of the Israeli military forces. After years of
enduring the torture of losing men who were my best friends, I couldn’t take it anymore and I tried to
go after the people making and disseminating them by becoming a counterterrorism specialist,
working with the United States CIA and MI6 and many other countries best ghosts, by infiltrating
highest levels of terrorist communities.”
I lean back against the wall. “But I became compromised. I fell in love with the daughter of a
terrorist, Tirza, and I couldn’t pull myself out without her finding out who I was. So I left Tirza behind
and she killed herself when they found out that we had been together. Her family would’ve killed her
anyway to make her an example. And again I had someone I loved taken from me.”
Her brow furrows. “I’m so sorry, Aviel.”
“And I thought I’d get out, but… the United States FBI needed my help here. The CIA offered me
citizenship to save my life, if I dedicated time to helping bring down terrorist circles inside of the
States. I didn’t want to. I just wanted the dying and pain to stop. I just wanted to live a simple life.” I
crumple forward the brave face I try to keep ahold of at all times crumbling with me.
She stands and walks to me. Her hands cup my dropped head and lift. Looking into her eyes, I see
understanding and maybe hope, but I never allow myself to feel that emotion. “You’re still working
with the Bureau?”
“My last job starts tomorrow. I can’t say much more.”
“But after you’re done, you’ll be able to tell me? Release it all?”
“No.” I shake my head. “It’s hard enough to be a part of it, but to relive what I do is even harder.
You’re the first woman I’ve admitted what I’ve done to. And I’m not proud of some of it. I can’t say
that I’ll ever be okay, Reign.”
She steps back and I imagine that this is it. She’ll leave and I’ll go back to pretending that my
feelings don’t exist.
 But she doesn’t. She crosses her arms in front of her and lifts the T-shirt over her head. And if I
thought she was gorgeous in the shirt, without it…
Fucking amazing.
“Reign?” I lose my cool, and that’s not me. My nostrils flare. I’m ready to pounce. “What are you
doing?”
“Showing you that you can’t hide from me. I can see you now and I’m not scared. You’re right, my
problems are challenges and they are changeable. But right now, I’m challenged by you and I want to
see what you bring to the table… or bed, as it may be.”
“If I make love to you, I cannot take it back.”
“Loving me is hard, but if anyone can do it, you can.”
I walk to her and my hands cup her teardrop breasts, lifting the globes as I drop my mouth to lave
my tongue over every inch. I suckle at the nipples, my teeth grazing the raised peaks until she’s
whimpering.
“Pleasure and pain have a fine line, my poppy. You will tell me if you cannot take my love.”
“I can take it.”
“But if you can’t, your safe word will be—”
“Poppy.”
“Perfect.”
 5 REIGN

HIS HANDS DROP to my panties and he pushes them down my thighs, but he doesn’t touch me. No, he’s
going to torture the fuck out of me in the best ways first. His lips return to mine, grinding and nibbling.
His tongue slides along the split of my lips and I grant him access. We fight for top position, rolling
and rubbing until I wonder where I stop and he begins.
I’ve allowed too many men to take advantage of me lately. No more.
I’m returning to my place as royalty of my own life. My name holds my place as queen and with
Aviel’s hands roaming my body, I feel worshipped.
He rolls my nipples between his thumb and finger, pebbling them until it’s almost painful, but the
zips and zings running through my core and I’m dripping down my leg.
“Aviel, touch me.”
“All in good time, my poppy.”
And that’s when I realize, he’s being the anti-jerk. He’s not torturing me. He’s respecting me.
And respect hurts so good.
I rub my thighs together, trying to get some relief. I moan at the pulsing.
“No, no, you will only come when I say so.”
I shiver.
Oh yes…
This is the Aviel I know. Controlled. Almost un-earthly, part angel and devil. And raw magnetism.
He backs me toward the bed. I buckle back and fall to the soft comforter. My nightmares from
before long forgotten. This is a sheer dream.
Trusting him with my body is one dip in the inkwell. He’s writing his way into my heart.
He drops his jeans and his boxers in one motion, grabbing his cock in his hand and rocking along
the length, pulling and massaging until I can see a pearl of juice hanging from the tip. I sit up and stick
out my tongue. Nodding his approval, I take one lick from the base to the tip, collecting the saltiness
on my tongue, leaving a light trail of red lipstick along the way.
“Oh, God, that’s good,” I moan through every word.
“Let’s see how you taste.”
I lean back and lift my feet to the bed, daring him to do it. His nostrils flare and his chest rolls like
the hills I drive my bike through.
“So pretty. So fucking beautiful.” His gaze holds to mine as he drops to his knees, and he doesn’t
break the connection even when he’s face to face with my pussy. “How much do you want me to taste
you?”
“I want it more than anything right now.”
 He gets closer. “And what about touching you?”
“Please, Avi… please.”
“Oh, my poppy, your begging is not needed. I am here to please only you.”
His tongue slips from my softness up to my clit and circles it and then again, same motion. And
again, stopping to flick my hardened pearl. I lift my hips, rubbing his beard against my body.
His big hands slip below my ass and hold me up. I’m off the bed and he’s feasting on me. His
tongue darts into my body, and then out, then in.
My breathing starts to become erratic, choppy, and forcing oxygen deep into my diaphragm. A coil
winds inside of me as he laps along the folds and sucks on my hard nub.
I reach down and hold him there. “Yes… yes… fuck!”
My body starts rocking with a burst of energy I’ve never experienced. It’s like I’ve exploded from
the inside out.
He crawls up my body and planks above me. “And how was that?”
“Holy fuck…”
And that when I feel the head of his cock enter me. Surprise, in the best way. My back arches as
I’m stretched to the absolute limit.
I grab his arms. “I’m not on the pill.”
He stills. “You do not understand. I am yours and you are mine now. I will protect you. I will take
care of you, Reign. My body and heart are yours. What happens now will be our fate together.”
My chest burns. I’ve never once been revered like this man is. It’s as if he’s been waiting for me
and his patience is being rewarded. And man he’s fucking hot and big.
So big.
I pull his mouth to mine as he slowly moves inch by inch of his long, girth inside of me. I need a
distraction from the pressure and his tongue does the trick.
“That’s it, baby. Remember, if it’s too much…”
“It’ll never be too much. It’s just enough. It’s everything, Avi.”
“I love it when you call me that.”
“I love… you,” I breathe out the words.
“Oh, my poppy, I’ve loved you forever.”
His hips start to move and I lock my legs behind his taut ass. Dark eyes turn to midnight black, and
I’m lost in him as much as he’s inside of in me.
The rhythm we create is like we’ve known each other’s bodies for longer than a night. It’s natural
and has a calm to it that I’m not sure I’ve ever felt.
Never felt.
My body winds again. The tension burning in my lower belly and thighs. My heart pounds quickly.
“Aviel…”
“I’ve got you. Come now, Reign. Come for me.”
I will do anything this man demands.
And so will my body.
The scales tip and I fall off the ledge. My body rocks with long bodyquakes as he continues to
pump. His hips drive deeper and harder. His head drops to my shoulder and he bites down as his
grunts echo the room. His cock pulses as he plants deep inside of me, releasing what may be the start
of a future I never thought I’d have.
A secret resolution that I can only hope will come true.
He raises his head. “Beautiful.”
And in his eyes and words, I find myself.
 6 AVIEL

I LEFT MY ANGEL SLEEPING . We couldn’t keep our hands off of each other and although I’m used to
surviving on two to three hours of sleep a night, I can see she isn’t.
Reign with a lack of sleep is probably a handful. Reign with sleep is handful. A delicious
handful.
I stand. “I don’t have time to claim her as mine today with the Guardians, but if she can stay over
here for a few days, when I get back, I’ll do that, and she can stay with me from now on.”
Gia looks up from her place at her desk in the Twisted Sisterhood Sanctuary. “I’m so happy for
you, but I wish Reign would have told me she was having these issues.”
“She’s a proud one. And feisty.”
Gia laughs, pushing to stand and I help her up. “Let’s go tell her the good news. She has a new
home.”
As we walk into the Great Bin, my lovely poppy exits from the hallway, freshly showered and
wearing her leather pants again. So fucking sexy.
But when she sees us, her brow furrows.
Shit.
Her jaw starts to harden. And when Gia wraps her up in her arms, Reign’s eyes narrow in on me.
Gia leans back and smiles. “Reign, I knew something was going on. We have a place for you in
the Sanctuary, but I wish you would have—”
“You told her?” Reign’s eyes pierce me.
“My pop—”
“No. I trusted you with that information. I can handle my situation and I was ready to tackle things
today, but you went and tried to be the big man.” Her voice escalates and people start to look at us as
they enjoy their lunches on the cafeteria-style folding tables around the edges.
Gia steps back. “Reign, you can stay with—”
“I don’t need your charity, Gia. I’ve been homeless before.” She shakes her head. “I know,
shocker. Kicked out at sixteen, and never looked back. I’m fine doing my thing, my way.” Her eyes
start to fill with tears.
I go to reach for her, but my fucking phone rings and when I look at who it is, I can’t ignore it.
They will keep calling and they will escalate to other means. I have to get this final assignment done.
And be done.
“Reign, we’ll talk when I get back, but I have to go get this finished.”
My phone buzzes with a text: 9-1-1 CALL ME NOW!
It’s from Pilea’s private number. Weird.
 “No, I’m going to go!” She stomps out of the room, her black motorcycle boots thumping on the
floor like pounding on a bass drum.
I run a hand over my hair. “Shit. I didn’t see that going like—”
Gia grabs my arm. “Aviel, you said it, she’s proud, and after hearing what she went through as a
child, her trust is shaky, and we can’t blame her for that.”
“I didn’t know about the kicked-out thing.”
“I think Reign is going to need to come clean with all of us. We’ll see how we can build that trust,
but sounds like you have something you have to do?”
I don’t think Gia knows what I do, but her hubby Beck does, so I suppose Gia might through
partner-osmosis. It’s common and I don’t blame him. In my job, I’m a little bit of a risk for safety for
anyone around me. He has things to lose, too.
“I’ll at least try to get her to stay here…” I start backing away.
“Good luck!”
“Thanks!”
I head to the Red Lipstick garage where I’m sure Reign’s bike is. The large metal building backs
to the building that houses their lounge. I open the door and she’s already on her bike, sliding the clip
into the strap on her helmet.
“Reign, please, don’t go.”
“You’re going, so I’m going.”
“But where? You can’t go back to—”
“I can go anywhere I want to.”
I try to stay calm, but this woman is making my blood pressure spike. My training is going out the
window when it comes to her and I’m anything but composed.
I grab the handlebars. “Please, just wait for me. I’ll be back in a few…”
She starts the bike and she rocks the bike away from me.
“You said you loved me!” I yell over the roar of the engine.
“And you said I could trust you and you broke that trust.”
“I was trying to help.”
“I didn’t ask for it.” She slams her visor down and revs the engine.
“Reign, saving people is what I need to do. It’s my destiny. Please… don’t… go!”
Her eyes soften and I see a bit of reluctance. “I wish I thought I was worth saving.”
“You are!” I scream as she races out of the building.
I run after her and when I’m at the street my worst fears come to life when a black truck races by
and I see a familiar face.
No… not them.
I head back into the garage, find the first bike with keys and a helmet and I’m out the door in thirty
seconds.
I’m not losing another love…
 7 REIGN

WITH EVERYONE TELLING me I’m not good enough, don’t have enough, and I’m just not enough, I’m
done. I’m going for one of those long rides, but there’s one thing I don’t think about…
The ice.
And the sound of trucks behind me and another bike revs its engine in the distance.
Why are those trucks so close? Bro, back off.
I keep my balance for about two blocks, but then I go to take a right toward the open road, and
look in my rearview mirror…
And the truck is right on my ass.
My bike hits a patch of black ice and I do a shimmy shake to keep it upright, but I can’t.
My leather pants grind against the pavement, but the frost keeps me from bouncing and I glide
almost comically. But when my elbow hits the ground, it’s not fucking funny.
I roll three or four times and come to a hard stop when I smack the curb with my back, and hit my
head on the concrete.
I shake my head but there’s a halo around everything. And everyone.
Aviel?
I can hear him screaming my name, but there’s someone right in front of me.
“Look what we have here Zvi’s bitch, apparently.” They rip off my helmet, ripping my chin open
when the latch catches, and my head jackhammers with pain.
My empty stomach rolls inside of me, acid forcing its way to my windpipe. I try to speak, but I’m
frozen. Fear and flight holding my voice box hostage.
Probably better I don’t speak.
“Reign!” Avi’s voice hits my ears and I wonder if I’m dreaming.
Is this just the next nightmare in my life?
I thought I was on the road to finding what I want to do and be and have. But then I go and ruin it
all. I should’ve stayed with him. I should’ve come clean with Gia and the Lipstick Crew. they deserve
it as my best friends. I should’ve fought through the fear. I should’ve told Avi I love him, again,
because I do, and now I may never get to say it.
The world starts to spin and an odd grey starts at the edges of my vision.
“Oh fuck…” My breathing gets choppy and I gasp for air.
And that’s when I hear sirens not far off.
“Let’s get her in the truck,” one of the voices around me says.
I can only make out figures. There are three of them and they are dressed in all black.
“Now!” another screams. “We need to leave. This bitch’ll be our leverage for making a deal if we
get caught. If not, we’ll film her end and Zvi will feel the same pain as our father.”
I’m not becoming anyone’s pawn in life. I have enough shit to deal with.
I sit up and I start swinging. My arms don’t stop, the pain from my elbow almost taking me under
the blackness. My eyes are closed, but I can feel when I connect with a soft crotch, and then
someone’s pointy chin, and the side of a head and I keep swinging.
Cars slide to halts and the cacophony of sirens is like I’m caught in an evil vortex with my head
pounding.
I hear, “Get down! Motherfuckers! Get down, hands behind your head.”
So I do the same. I crumble into the fetal position and I hold my head while I hear grumbling and
moaning around me.
“Baby! My poppy,” his voice soothes so much that is wrong. Aviel pulls me into his lap and rocks
me. “Reign, baby, please, please open your eyes. Please come back to me.”
I try to open them but they’re cemented closed. “Avi… I can’t…”
My elbow beats with every thump of my heart. My head rings like a bell has been hit inside of it.
And my ass, I’m going with the leather didn’t cover everything, there’s a burning so it’s got some sort
of issue that’s not good.
“Oh, baby, we’re gonna get you help. Medic! Call 9-1-1!”
There’s chatter around me and reading of Miranda Rights but soon there’s only the sound of the
wheels of a gurney rolling on the pavement toward a running vehicle and I’m bouncing along on my
back.
“They’re taking her to Kildare General Hospital.”
I’m loaded into the ambulance, wires brush over my body, and bags of liquids slosh and with a
few pokes, I’m infused with some concoction that alleviates some of the pain but not all.
“I’m sorry sir, but only family—”
“She’s my poppy, you are not taking her away from me,” Aviel’s voice is thick and I swear I hear
it break in places.
I blink a couple of times my eyes opening. Someone grabs my hand, and I can feel a wetness coat
the back as it’s rubbed on someone’s skin, the roughness of a beard tells me who it is.
My vision starts to come back and I find Avi crying next to me.
“Aviel, I love you. I’m so sorry.”
“I know, I know. Your fears are real, I know this. Ad you’re right. I shouldn’t have told Gia, that
was your story to tell. We’re going to work through this together.”
“I never should have—”
“Shhh… save your energy. You took a hard fall.”
“How did you see me?”
He sighs. “I jumped on Gia’s bike and took out after you.”
“You ride?”
“Not until today.”
“Did you go down, too?”
He chuckles. “I probably could’ve run faster than I was driving that bike, so no. But maybe you
can show me how to really ride, that is, if you’re still in for us.”
“I’m in. I’m all in. I don’t know why I wanted out. You’re the one I need in my life.”
He kisses my cheek. “I need you, too.”
I blink and the meds are really kicking in. I’m not feeling much but a calm, or mayber it’s just
everything making itself right in my life. “But who were those men?”
 “They were a sent from my home country to kill me for what happened to Tirza, but they got to you
first.”
“Oh, God… are you okay?”
“I’m good. And you… you are quite the fighter.”
I chuckle. “Words, fists, actions… I’m a ball of fury.”
“Maybe we can take some time to de-fury you.” It sounds quite sexual to me, and I’m all for it. I
need a little bodyquaking to take me out of this pain.
He continues, “And me, too. I will find a new place of peace. I’m getting out of the Bureau. I’m
done. I won’t do another assignment and I will protect you.”
“What will you do?”
He leans down and whispers in my ear. “You, my poppy.”
And there it is. The man can ignite me from the inside out. He’s a struck a match inside of me and
it’s time to let the passion burn.
“You’ll stay with me?” I grab his hand and squeeze.
“Yes, I’ll stay with you.”
“I trust you, Avi. I really do.”
“That’s good, baby. Now you rest and we’ll figure it all out together.”
The inkwell is now tipped over. My trust isn’t limited. It’s infinite. Will I protect myself? Sure.
We all have to, but I will be vulnerable with those who care about me and those I care about.
This is my new year’s resolution: Trust without boundaries.
And it’s one that I’ll be upholding.
 EPILOGUE

Avi
“Deep breath, hold, and push!” I coach her through the pain and pressure. She’s bringing our first
child into the world and nothing could be more beautiful.
“Aghhhh.” She grunts out as our baby’s head appears and then the rest become part of this world.
I look down. Figures that I would be surrounded by beautiful women in my life. “It’s a girl, baby.”
She looks down as the doctor holds our baby up for her to see. “And look at that head of dark
hair. Wow.”
I kiss her damp forehead. We’re lucky that we made it to the Kildare General Hospital when we
did. I thought our daughter was going to be born in the front seat of my truck. Reign had contraction on
top of contraction and was ready to push when they put her on the bed. It was exactly how I’ve
imagined our life would be— fast and furious.
But not on the back of a bike.
I did learn how to ride, the right way. But I still don’t find it comfortable or something I’ll ever
do. And once Reign learned we had indeed created a life that first night, she stopped riding. And now
our daughter will be good friends with Gia and Beck’s daughter. The sisterhood of Red Lipstick will
never end.
Long live the women who make the path for love.
 ALSO BY BRYNN HALE

Brynn’s Amazon Page- https://www.amazon.com/Brynn-Hale/e/B081QKR39W

 ABOUT BRYNN HALE

Brynn Hale a Midwest girl who can spot--and swoon over--a hard-working guy a mile away. She believes in winks across a crowded
room, guys who do the dishes, a blue-collar alpha will always win a heroine's heart, and a martini or craft beer is the perfect
accompaniment to her stories.
You can visit her at https://www.facebook.com/BrynnHaleAuthor
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j’entendais aller et venir dans notre maison, et des reflets pourpres
miroitaient sur mes vitres.
Qu’on se figure mon épouvante.
Après avoir écouté, je me levai doucement et j’ouvris une fenêtre.
Toute la rue était pleine de monde, et non seulement la rue, mais
encore les petits jardins et les ruelles aux environs : rien que de
grands gaillards, coiffés d’immenses chapeaux à cornes, revêtus de
longs habits bleus à parements rouges, — de larges baudriers
blancs en travers, — et la grande queue pendant sur le dos, sans
parler des sabres et des gibernes qui leur ballottaient au bas des
reins, et que je voyais pour la première fois. Ils avaient mis leurs
fusils en faisceaux devant notre grange : deux sentinelles se
promenaient autour ; les autres entraient dans les maisons comme
chez eux.
Au coin de l’écurie, trois chevaux piaffaient. Plus loin, devant la
boucherie de Sépel, de l’autre côté de la place, aux crocs du mur où
l’on écorchait les veaux, était pendu tout un bœuf, à la lueur d’un
grand feu qui montait et descendait, illuminant la place ; sa tête et
son dos traînaient à terre. Un de ces hommes, les manches de sa
chemise retroussées autour de ses bras musculeux, le dépouillait ; il
l’avait fendu du haut en bas ; les entrailles bleues coulaient sur la
boue avec le sang. La figure de cet homme, avec son cou nu et sa
tignasse, était terrible à voir. Je compris aussitôt que les
Républicains avaient surpris le village, et tout en m’habillant,
j’invoquai le secours de l’empereur Joseph, dont M. Karolus Richter
parlait si souvent.
Les Français étaient arrivés durant notre premier sommeil, et
depuis deux heures au moins ; car, lorsque je me penchai pour
descendre, j’en vis trois, également en manches de chemise comme
le boucher, qui retiraient le pain de notre four avec notre pelle. Ils
avaient épargné la peine de cuire à Lisbeth, comme l’autre avait
épargné la peine de tuer à Sépel. Ces gens savaient tout faire, rien
ne les embarrassait.
 Lisbeth, assise dans un coin, les mains croisées sur les genoux,
les regardait d’un air assez paisible ; sa première frayeur était
passée. Elle me vit au haut de la rampe, et s’écria :
« Fritzel, descends… ils ne te feront pas de mal ! »
Alors je descendis, et ces hommes continuèrent leur ouvrage
sans s’inquiéter de moi. La porte de l’allée à gauche était ouverte, et
je voyais dans le fruitier deux autres Républicains en train de
brasser la pâte d’une seconde ou d’une troisième fournée. Enfin, à
droite, par la porte de la salle entrebâillée, je voyais l’oncle Jacob
assis près de la table, sur une chaise, tandis qu’un homme
vigoureux, à gros favoris roux, le nez court et rond, les sourcils
saillants, les oreilles écartées de la tête et la tignasse couleur de
chanvre, grosse comme le bras, pendant entre les deux épaules,
était installé dans le fauteuil et déchiquetait un de nos jambons avec
appétit. On ne voyait que ses gros poings bruns aller et venir, la
fourchette dans l’un, le couteau dans l’autre, et ses grosses joues
musculeuses trembloter. De temps en temps, il prenait le verre,
levait le coude, buvait un bon coup et poursuivait.
Il avait des épaulettes couleur de plomb, un grand sabre à
fourreau de cuir, dont la coquille remontait derrière son coude, et des
bottes tellement couvertes de boue, qu’on ne voyait plus que la
glèbe jaune qui commençait à sécher. Son chapeau posé sur le
buffet, laissait pendre un bouquet de plumes rouges, qui s’agitaient
au courant d’air, car, malgré le froid les fenêtres restaient ouvertes ;
une sentinelle passait derrière, l’arme au bras, et s’arrêtait de temps
en temps pour jeter un coup d’œil sur la table.
Tout en déchiquetant, l’homme aux gros favoris parlait d’une voix
brusque :
« Ainsi, tu es médecin ? disait-il à l’oncle.
— Oui, monsieur le commandant.
— Appelle-moi « commandant » tout court, ou « citoyen
commandant », je te l’ai déjà dit ; les « monsieur » et « madame »
sont passés de mode. Mais, pour en revenir à nos moutons, tu dois
connaître le pays ; un médecin de campagne est toujours sur les
quatre chemins. A combien sommes-nous de Kaiserslautern ?
— A sept lieues, commandant.
— Et de Pirmasens ?
— A huit environ.
— Et de Landau ?
— Je crois à cinq bonnes lieues.
— Je crois… à peu près… environ… est-ce ainsi qu’un homme
du pays doit parler ? Écoute, tu m’as l’air d’avoir peur ; tu crains que,
si les habits blancs passent par ici, on ne te pende pour les
renseignements que tu m’auras donnés. Ote-toi cette idée de la
tête : la République française te protège. »
Et regardant l’oncle en face, de ses yeux gris :
« A la santé de la République une et indivisible ! » fit-il en levant
son verre.
Ils trinquèrent ensemble, et l’oncle, tout pâle, but à la République.
« Ah çà, reprit l’autre, est-ce qu’on n’a pas vu d’Autrichiens par
ici ?
— Non, commandant.
— En es-tu bien sûr ? Voyons, regarde-moi donc en face.
— Je n’en ai pas vu.
— Est-ce que tu n’aurais pas fait un tour à Réethâl ces jours
derniers. »
L’oncle avait été trois jours avant à Réethâl ; il crut le
commandant informé par quelqu’un du village, et répondit :
« Oui, commandant.
— Ah ! — Et il n’y avait pas d’Autrichiens ?
— Non ! »
Le républicain vida son verre, en jetant un coup d’œil oblique sur
l’oncle Jacob ; puis il étendit le bras et le prit au poignet d’un air
étrange.
 « Tu dis que non ?
— Oui, commandant.
— Eh bien, tu mens ! »
Et, d’une voix lente, il ajouta :
« Nous ne pendons pas, nous autres, mais nous fusillons
quelquefois ceux qui nous trompent ! »
La figure de l’oncle devint encore plus pâle. Cependant, d’un ton
assez ferme et la tête haute, il répéta :
« Commandant, je vous affirme sur l’honneur qu’il n’y avait pas
d’Impériaux à Réethâl il y a trois jours.
— Et moi, s’écria le républicain, dont les petits yeux gris brillaient
sous ses épais sourcils fauves, je te dis qu’il y en avait. Est-ce
clair ? »
Il y eut un silence. Tous ceux de la cuisine s’étaient retournés ; la
mine du commandant n’était pas rassurante. Moi, je me mis à
pleurer, j’entrai même dans la chambre, comme pour secourir l’oncle
Jacob, et je me plaçai derrière lui. Le républicain nous regardait tous
deux, les sourcils froncés, ce qui ne l’empêchait pas d’avaler encore
une bouchée de jambon, comme pour se donner le temps de
réfléchir. Dehors, Lisbeth sanglotait tout haut.
« Commandant, reprit l’oncle avec fermeté, vous ignorez peut-
être qu’il y a deux Réethâl, l’un du côté de Kaiserslautern, et l’autre
sur la Queich, à trois petites lieues de Landau. Les Autrichiens
étaient peut-être là-bas ; mais de ce côté, mercredi soir, on n’en
avait pas encore vu.
— Ça, dit le commandant en mauvais allemand lorrain, avec un
sourire goguenard, ce n’est pas trop bête. Mais nous autres, entre
Bitche et Sarreguemines, nous sommes aussi fins que vous. A
moins que tu ne me prouves qu’il y a deux Réethâl, je ne te cache
pas que mon devoir est de te faire arrêter et juger par un conseil de
guerre.
— Commandant, s’écria l’oncle en étendant le bras, la preuve
qu’il y a deux Réethâl, c’est qu’on les voit sur toutes les cartes du
pays. »
Il montrait notre vieille carte accrochée au mur.
Alors le républicain se retourna dans son fauteuil et regarda en
disant :
« Ah ! c’est une carte du pays ? Voyons un peu. »
L’oncle alla prendre la carte et l’étendit sur la table, en montrant
les deux villages.
« C’est juste, dit le commandant, à la bonne heure ; moi je ne
demande pas mieux que de voir clair ! »
Il s’était posé les deux coudes sur la table, et, sa grosse tête
entre les mains, il regardait.
« Tiens, tiens, c’est fameux, cela ! disait-il. D’où vient cette carte ?
— C’est mon père qui l’a faite ; il était géomètre. »
Le républicain souriait.
« Oui, les bois, les rivières, les chemins, tout est marqué, disait-
il ; je reconnais ça… nous avons passé là… c’est bon… c’est très
bon ! »
Et se redressant :
« Tu ne te sers pas de cette carte, citoyen docteur, fit-il en
allemand ; moi j’en ai besoin et je la mets en réquisition pour le
service de la République. Allons, allons, réparation d’honneur ! Nous
allons boire encore un coup pour cimenter les fêtes de la
Concorde. »
On pense avec quel empressement Lisbeth descendit à la cave
chercher une autre bouteille.
L’oncle Jacob avait repris son assurance. Le commandant, qui
me regardait alors, lui demanda :
« C’est ton fils ?
— Non, c’est mon neveu.
— Un petit gaillard solidement bâti. Quand je l’ai vu tout à l’heure
arriver à ton secours, cela m’a fait plaisir. Allons, approche », dit-il en
m’attirant par le bras.
Il me passa la main dans les cheveux, et dit d’une voix un peu
rude, mais bonne tout de même :
« Élève ce garçon-là dans l’amour des droits de l’homme. Au lieu
de garder les vaches, il peut devenir commandant ou général
comme un autre. Maintenant toutes les portes sont ouvertes, toutes
les places sont à prendre ; il ne faut que du cœur et de la chance
pour réussir. Moi, tel que tu me vois, je suis le fils d’un forgeron de
Sarreguemines ; sans la République, je taperais encore sur
l’enclume ; notre grand flandrin de comte, qui est avec les habits
blancs, serait un aigle par la grâce de Dieu, et moi je serais un âne ;
au lieu que c’est tout le contraire par la grâce de la Révolution. »
Il vida brusquement son verre, et fermant à demi les yeux avec
finesse :
« Ça fait une petite différence », dit-il.
A côté du jambon se trouvait une de nos galettes, que les
Républicains avaient cuites d’abord avec la première fournée ; le
commandant m’en coupa un morceau.
« Avale-moi ça hardiment, dit-il tout à fait de bonne humeur, et
tâche de devenir un homme ! »
Puis se tournant vers la cuisine :
« Sergent Laflèche ! » s’écria-t-il de sa voix de tonnerre.
Un vieux sergent à moustaches grises, sec comme un hareng
saur, parut sur le seuil.
« Combien de miches, sergent ?
— Quarante.
— Dans une heure il nous en faut cinquante ; avec nos dix fours,
cinq cents : trois livres de pain par homme. »
Le sergent rentra dans la cuisine.
L’oncle et moi, nous observions tout cela sans bouger.
Le commandant s’accouda de nouveau sur la carte, la tête entre
les mains.
 Le jour grisâtre commençait à poindre dehors ; on voyait l’ombre
de la sentinelle se promener l’arme au bras devant nos fenêtres.
Une sorte de silence s’était établi ; bon nombre de Républicains
dormaient sans doute, la tête sur le sac, autour des grands feux
qu’ils avaient allumés, d’autres dans les maisons. La pendule allait
lentement, le feu pétillait toujours dans la cuisine.
Cela durait depuis quelques instants, lorsqu’un grand bruit
s’éleva dans la rue ; des vitres sautèrent, une porte s’ouvrit avec
fracas, et notre voisin, Joseph Spick, le cabaretier, se mit à crier :
« Au secours ! au feu ! »
Mais personne ne bougeait dans le village ; chacun était bien
content de se tenir tranquille chez soi. Le commandant écoutait.
« Sergent Laflèche ! » dit-il.
Le sergent était allé voir, il ne parut qu’au bout d’un instant.
« Qu’est-ce qui se passe ? lui demanda le commandant.
— C’est un aristocrate de cabaretier qui refuse d’obtempérer aux
réquisitions de la citoyenne Thérèse, répondit le sergent d’un air
grave.
— Eh bien ! qu’on me l’amène. »
Le sergent sortit.
Deux minutes après, notre allée se remplissait de monde ; la
porte se rouvrit, et Joseph Spick, avec sa petite veste, son grand
pantalon de toile et son bonnet de laine frisée, parut sur le seuil,
entre quatre soldats de la République l’arme au bras, la figure jaune
comme du pain d’épices, les chapeaux usés, les coudes troués, de
larges pièces aux genoux, et les souliers en loques, recousus avec
de la ficelle ; ce qui ne les empêchait pas de se redresser et d’être
fiers comme des rois.
Joseph, les mains dans les poches de sa veste, le dos rond, le
front plat et les joues pendantes, ne se tenait plus sur ses longues
jambes ; il regardait à terre comme effaré.
Derrière, dans l’ombre, se voyait la tête d’une femme pâle et
maigre, qui attira tout de suite mon attention ; elle avait le front haut,
le nez droit, le menton allongé et les cheveux d’un noir bleuâtre. Ces
cheveux lui descendaient en larges bandeaux sur les joues et se
relevaient en tresses derrière les oreilles, de sorte que sa figure,
dont on ne voyait que la face sans les côtés, semblait extrêmement
longue. Ses yeux étaient grands et noirs. Elle portait un chapeau de
feutre à cocarde tricolore, et, par-dessus le chapeau, un mouchoir
rouge lié sous le menton. Comme je n’avais vu jusqu’alors dans
notre pays que des femmes blondes ou brunes, celle-ci me produisit
un effet d’étonnement et d’admiration extraordinaire, tout jeune que
j’étais ; je la regardais ébahi ; l’oncle ne me paraissait pas moins
étonné que moi, et quand elle entra, suivie de cinq ou six autres
Républicains habillés comme les premiers, durant tout le temps
qu’elle fut là, nous ne la quittâmes pas des yeux.
Une fois dans la chambre, nous vîmes qu’elle avait un grand
manteau de drap bleu, à triple collet tombant jusqu’au-dessous des
coudes, un petit tonneau, dont le cordon lui passait en sautoir sur
l’épaule ; enfin, autour du cou, une grosse cravate de soie noire à
longues franges, quelque butin de la guerre sans doute, et qui
relevait encore la beauté de sa tête calme et fière.
Le commandant attendait que tout le monde fût entré, regardant
surtout Joseph Spick, qui semblait plus mort que vif. Puis,
s’adressant à la femme qui, venait de relever son chapeau d’un
mouvement de tête :
« Eh bien, Thérèse, fit-il, qu’est-ce qui se passe ?
— Vous savez, commandant, qu’à la dernière étape je n’avais
plus une goutte d’eau-de-vie, dit-elle d’un ton ferme et net ; mon
premier soin, en arrivant, fut de courir par tout le village pour en
trouver, en la payant, bien entendu. Mais les gens cachent tout, et
depuis une demi-heure seulement, j’ai découvert la branche de
sapin à la porte de cet homme. Le caporal Merlot, le fusilier
Cincinnatus et le tambour-maître Horatius Coclès me suivaient pour
m’aider. Nous entrons, nous demandons du vin, de l’eau-de-vie,
n’importe quoi ; mais le kaiserlick n’avait rien, il ne comprenait pas, il
faisait le sourd. On se met donc à chercher, à regarder dans tous les
coins, et finalement nous trouvons l’entrée de la cave au fond d’un
bûcher, dans la cour, derrière un tas de fagots qu’il avait mis devant.
« Nous aurions pu nous fâcher ; au lieu de cela, nous
descendons et nous trouvons du vin, du lard, de la choucroute, de
l’eau-de-vie ; nous remplissons nos tonneaux, nous prenons du lard,
et puis nous remontons sans esclandre. Mais, en nous voyant
revenir chargés, cet homme, qui se tenait tranquillement dans la
chambre, se mit à crier comme un aveugle, et au lieu d’accepter
mes assignats, il les déchira et me prit par le bras en me secouant
de toutes ses forces. Cincinnatus ayant déposé sa charge sur la
table, prit ce grand flandrin au collet et le jeta contre la fenêtre de sa
baraque. C’est alors que le sergent Laflèche est arrivé. Voilà tout,
commandant. »
Quand cette femme eut parlé de la sorte, elle se retira derrière
les autres, et tout aussitôt un petit homme sec, maigre et brusque,
dont le chapeau penchait sur l’oreille, et qui tenait sous son bras une
longue canne à pomme de cuivre en forme d’oignon, s’avança et
dit :
« Commandant, ce que la citoyenne Thérèse vient de vous
communiquer, c’est l’indignation de la mauvaise foi, que tout chacun
aurait eue de se trouver nez à nez avec un kaiserlick dépourvu de
tout sentiment civique, et qui se propose…
— C’est bon, interrompit le commandant, la parole de la
citoyenne Thérèse me suffit ! »
Et s’adressant en allemand à Joseph Spick, il lui dit en fronçant
les sourcils :
« Dis donc, toi, est-ce que tu veux être fusillé ? Cela ne coûtera
que la peine de te conduire dans ton jardin ! Ne sais-tu pas que le
papier de la République vaut mieux que l’or des tyrans ? Écoute,
pour cette fois je veux bien te faire grâce, en considération de ton
ignorance ; mais s’il t’arrive encore de cacher tes vivres et de refuser
les assignats en payement, je te fais fusiller sur la place du village,
pour servir d’exemple aux autres. Allons, marche, grand imbécile ! »
 Il débita cette petite harangue très rondement ; puis, se tournant
vers la cantinière :
« C’est bien, Thérèse, dit-il, tu peux charger tes tonneaux, cet
homme n’y mettra pas opposition. Et vous autres, qu’on le laisse
aller. »
Tout le monde sortit, Thérèse en tête et Joseph le dernier. Le
pauvre diable n’avait plus une goutte de sang dans les veines ; il
venait d’en échapper d’une belle. Le jour, dans l’intervalle, était
venu.
Le commandant se leva, plia la carte et la mit dans sa poche.
Puis il s’avança jusqu’à l’une des fenêtres et se mit à regarder le
village. L’oncle et moi nous regardions à l’autre fenêtre. Il pouvait
être alors cinq heures du matin.
 CHAPITRE III

Toute ma vie je me rappellerai cette rue silencieuse encombrée

de gens endormis, les uns étendus, les autres repliés, la tête sur le
sac. Je vois encore ces pieds boueux, ces semelles usées, ces
habits rapiécés, ces faces jeunes aux teintes brunes, ces vieilles
joues rigides, les paupières closes ; ces grands chapeaux, ces
épaulettes déteintes, ces pompons, ces couvertures de laine à
bordure rouge filandreuse, pleines de trous, ces manteaux gris, cette
paille dispersée dans la boue. Et le grand silence du sommeil après
la marche forcée, ce repos absolu semblable à la mort ; et le petit
jour bleuâtre enveloppant tout cela de sa lumière indécise, le soleil
pâle montant dans la brume, les maisonnettes aux larges toitures de
chaume, regardant de leurs petites fenêtres noires ; et tout au loin,
des deux côtés du village, sur l’Altenberg et le Réepockel, au-dessus
des vergers et des chènevières, les baïonnettes des sentinelles
scintillant parmi les dernières étoiles, non, jamais je n’oublierai cet
étrange spectacle ; j’étais bien jeune alors, mais de tels souvenirs
sont éternels.
A mesure que le jour grandissait, s’animait aussi le tableau : une
tête se levait, s’appuyait sur le coude et regardait, puis bâillait et se
couchait de nouveau. Ailleurs un vieux soldat se dressait tout à
coup, secouait la paille de ses habits, se coiffait de son feutre et
repliait son lambeau de couverture ; un autre aussi roulait son
manteau et le bouclait sur son sac ; un autre tirait de sa poche un
bout de pipe et battait le briquet. Les premiers levés se
rapprochaient et causaient entre eux, d’autres venaient les rejoindre
en frappant de la semelle, car il faisait froid à cette heure ; les feux
allumés dans la rue et sur la place avaient fini par s’éteindre.
En face de chez nous, sur la petite place, était la fontaine ; un
certain nombre de Républicains, rangés autour des deux grandes
auges moussues, se lavaient, riant et plaisantant malgré le froid ;
d’autres venaient allonger la lèvre au goulot.
Puis les maisons s’ouvraient une à une, et l’on voyait les soldats
en sortir, inclinant leurs grands chapeaux et leurs sacs sous les
petites portes. Ils avaient presque tous la pipe allumée.
A droite de notre grange, devant l’auberge de Spick, stationnait la
charrette de la cantinière couverte d’une grande toile ; elle était à
deux roues, en forme de brouette, les bras posant à terre. Derrière,
la mule, couverte d’une vieille housse de laine à carreaux rouges et
bleus, attirait de notre échoppe une longue mèche de foin, qu’elle
mâchait gravement, les yeux à demi fermés d’un air sentimental.
La cantinière, à la fenêtre en face, raccommodait une petite
culotte, et se penchait de temps en temps pour jeter un coup d’œil
sous le hangar.
Là, le tambour-maître Horatius Coclès, Cincinnatus, Merlot et un
grand gaillard jovial, maigre, sec, à cheval sur des bottes de foin, se
faisaient la queue l’un à l’autre ; ils se peignaient les tresses et les
lissaient en se crachant dans la main ; Horatius Coclès, qui se
trouvait en tête de la bande, fredonnait un air, et ses camarades
répétaient le refrain à la sourdine.
Près d’eux, contre deux vieilles futailles, dormait un petit tambour
d’une douzaine d’années, tout blond comme moi, et qui m’intéressait
particulièrement. C’est lui que surveillait la cantinière et dont elle
raccommodait sans doute une culotte. Il avait son petit nez rouge en
l’air, la bouche entrouverte, le dos contre les deux tonnes et un bras
sur sa caisse ; ses baguettes étaient passées dans la buffleterie, et
sur ses pieds, couverts de quelques brins de paille, était étendu un
grand caniche tout crotté, qui le réchauffait. A chaque instant cet
animal levait la tête et le regardait comme pour dire : « Je voudrais
bien faire un tour dans les cuisines du village ! » Mais le petit ne
bougeait pas ; il dormait si bien ! Et comme, dans le lointain,
quelques chiens aboyaient, le caniche bâillait ; il aurait voulu se
mettre de la partie.
Bientôt deux officiers sortirent de la maison voisine ; deux
hommes élancés, jeunes, la taille serrée dans leur habit. Comme ils
passaient devant la maison, le commandant leur cria :
« Duchêne ! Richer !
— Bonjour, commandant, dirent-ils en se retournant.
— Les postes sont relevés ?
— Oui, commandant.
— Rien de nouveau ?
— Rien, commandant.
— Dans une demi-heure on se remet en marche. Fais battre le
rappel, Richer. Entre, Duchêne. »
L’un des officiers entra, l’autre passa sous le hangar et dit
quelques mots à Horatius Coclès. Moi, je regardais le nouveau venu.
Le commandant avait fait apporter une bouteille d’eau-de-vie ; ils en
buvaient ensemble, lorsqu’une sorte de bourdonnement s’entendit
dehors : c’était le rappel. Je courus voir ce qui se passait. Horatius
Coclès, devant cinq tambours, dont le petit tenait la gauche, la
canne en l’air, ordonnait le roulement. Tant que la canne fut levée, il
continua. Les Républicains arrivaient de toutes les ruelles du village ;
ils se rangeaient sur deux lignes, devant la fontaine, et leurs
sergents commençaient l’appel. L’oncle et moi, nous étions
émerveillés de l’ordre qui régnait chez ces gens ; à mesure qu’on les
appelait, ils répondaient si vite, que c’était comme un murmure de
tous les côtés. Ils avaient repris leurs fusils et les tenaient à volonté,
sur l’épaule ou la crosse à terre.
Après l’appel, il se fit un grand silence, et plusieurs hommes,
dans chaque compagnie, se détachèrent sous la conduite des
caporaux, pour aller chercher le pain. La citoyenne Thérèse attelait
alors sa mule à la charrette. Au bout de quelques instants, les
escouades revinrent, apportant les miches dans des sacs et des
paniers. La distribution commença.
Comme les Républicains s’étaient fait la soupe en arrivant, ils se
bouclaient l’un à l’autre leur miche sur le sac.
« Allons ! s’écria le commandant d’un ton joyeux, en route ! »
Il prit son manteau, le jeta sur son épaule, et sortit sans nous dire
ni bonjour, ni bonsoir.
Nous pensions être débarrassés de ces gens pour toujours.
Au moment où le commandant sortait, le bourgmestre vint prier
l’oncle Jacob de se rendre bien vite chez lui, disant que la vue des
Républicains avait rendu sa femme malade.
Ils partirent ensemble aussitôt. Lisbeth arrangeait déjà les
chaises et balayait la salle. On entendait dehors les officiers
commander : « En avant, marche ! » Les tambours résonnaient ; la
cantinière criait : « Hue » ! et le bataillon se mettait en route, quand
une sorte de pétillement terrible retentit au bout du village. C’étaient
des coups de fusil, qui se suivaient quelquefois plusieurs ensemble,
quelquefois un à un.
Les Républicains allaient entrer dans la rue.
« Halte ! » cria le commandant, qui regardait debout sur ses
étriers, prêtant l’oreille.
Je m’étais mis à la fenêtre, et je voyais tous ces hommes
attentifs, et les officiers hors des rangs autour de leur chef, qui
parlait avec vivacité.
Tout à coup un soldat parut au détour de la rue ; il courait, son
fusil sur l’épaule.
« Commandant, dit-il de loin, tout essoufflé, les Croates ! L’avant-
poste est enlevé… ils arrivent !… »
A peine le commandant eut-il entendu cela qu’il se retourna,
courant sur la ligne ventre à terre et criant :
« Formez le carré ! »
 Les officiers, les tambours, la cantinière se repliaient en même
temps autour de la fontaine, tandis que les compagnies se croisaient
comme un jeu de cartes ; en moins d’une minute, elles formèrent le
carré sur trois rangs, les autres au milieu, et presque aussitôt il se fit
dans la rue un bruit épouvantable ; les Croates arrivaient ; la terre en
tremblait. Je les vois encore déboucher au tournant de la rue, leurs
grands manteaux rouges flottant derrière eux comme les plis de
cinquante étendards, et courbés si bas sur leur selle, la latte en
avant, qu’on apercevait à peine leurs faces osseuses et brunes aux
longues moustaches jaunes.
Il faut que les enfants soient possédés du diable, car, au lieu de
me sauver, je restai là, les yeux écarquillés, pour voir la bataille.
J’avais bien peur, c’est vrai, mais la curiosité l’emportait encore.
Le temps de regarder et de frémir, les Croates étaient sur la
place. J’entendis à la même seconde le commandant crier : « Feu ! »
Puis un coup de tonnerre, puis rien que le bourdonnement de mes
oreilles. Tout le côté du carré tourné vers la rue venait de faire feu à
la fois ; les vitres de nos fenêtres tombaient en grelottant ; la fumée
entrait dans la chambre avec des débris de cartouches, et l’odeur de
la poudre remplissait l’air.
Moi, les cheveux hérissés, je regardais, et je voyais les Croates
sur leurs grands chevaux, debout dans la fumée grise, bondir,
retomber et rebondir, comme pour grimper sur le carré et ceux de
derrière arriver, arriver sans cesse, hurlant d’une voix sauvage :
« Forvertz ! forvertz ! [2]
[2] En avant ! en avant !

« Feu du second rang ! » cria le commandant, au milieu des

hennissements et des cris sans fin.
Il avait l’air de parler dans notre chambre tant sa voix était calme.
Un nouveau coup de tonnerre suivit ; et comme le crépi tombait,
comme les tuiles roulaient des toits, comme le ciel et la terre
semblaient se confondre, Lisbeth, derrière, dans la cuisine, poussait
des cris si perçants que, même à travers ce tumulte, on les entendait
comme un coup de sifflet.
Après les feux de peloton commencèrent les feux de file. On ne
voyait plus que les fusils du deuxième rang s’abaisser, faire feu et se
relever, tandis que le premier rang, le genou à terre, croisait la
baïonnette, et que le troisième chargeait les fusils et les passait au
second.
Les Croates tourbillonnaient autour du carré, frappant au loin de
leurs grandes lattes ; de temps en temps un chapeau tombait,
quelquefois l’homme. Un des ces Croates, repliant son cheval sur
les jarrets, bondit si loin qu’il franchit les trois rangs et tomba dans le
carré ; mais alors le commandant républicain se précipita sur lui, et
d’un furieux coup de pointe le cloua pour ainsi dire sur la croupe de
son cheval ; je vis le Républicain retirer son sabre rouge jusqu’à la
garde ; cette vue me donna froid ; j’allais fuir ; mais j’étais à peine
levé, que les Croates firent volte-face et partirent, laissant un grand
nombre d’hommes et de chevaux sur la place.
Les chevaux essayaient de se relever, puis retombaient. Cinq ou
six cavaliers, pris sous leur monture, faisaient des efforts pour
dégager leurs jambes ; d’autres tout sanglants se traînaient à quatre
pattes, levant la main et criant d’une voix lamentable : Pardône,
Françôse ! [3] dans la crainte d’être massacrés ; quelques-uns, ne
pouvant endurer ce qu’ils souffraient, demandaient en grâce qu’on
les achevât. Le plus grand nombre restaient immobiles.
[3] Pardon, Français !

Pour la première fois je compris bien la mort : ces hommes que

j’avais vus deux minutes avant, pleins de vie et de force, chargeant
leurs ennemis avec fureur, et bondissant comme des loups, ils
étaient là, couchés pêle-mêle, insensibles comme les pierres du
chemin.
Dans les rangs des Républicains il y avait aussi des places vides,
des corps étendus sur la face, et quelques blessés, les joues et le
front pleins de sang ; ils se bandaient la tête, le fusil au pied, sans
quitter les rangs ; leurs camarades les aidaient à serrer le mouchoir
et à remettre le chapeau dessus.
Le commandant, à cheval près de la fontaine, la corne de son
grand chapeau à plumes sur le dos et le sabre au poing, faisait
serrer les rangs ; près de lui se tenaient les tambours en ligne, et un
peu plus loin, tout près de l’auge, la cantinière avec sa charrette. On
entendait les trompettes des Croates sonner la retraite. Au tournant
de la rue, ils avaient fait halte ; une de leurs sentinelles attendait là,
derrière l’angle de la maison commune : on ne voyait que la tête de
son cheval. Quelques coups de fusil partaient encore.
« Cessez le feu ! » cria le commandant.
Et tout se tut ; on n’entendit plus que la trompette au loin.
La cantinière fit alors le tour des rangs à l’intérieur pour verser de
l’eau-de-vie aux hommes, tandis que sept ou huit grands gaillards
allaient puiser de l’eau à la fontaine, dans leurs gamelles, pour les
blessés, qui tous demandaient à boire d’une voix pitoyable.
Moi, penché hors de la fenêtre, je regardais au fond de la rue
déserte, me demandant si les manteaux rouges oseraient revenir. Le
commandant regardait aussi dans cette direction, et causait avec un
capitaine appuyé sur la selle de son cheval. Tout à coup le capitaine
traversa le carré, écarta les rangs et se précipita chez nous en
criant : « Le maître de la maison ?
— Il est sorti.
— Eh bien… toi… conduis-moi dans votre grenier… vite ! »
Je laissai là mes sabots, et me mis à grimper l’escalier au fond
de l’allée comme un écureuil.
Le capitaine me suivait. En haut, il vit du premier coup d’œil
l’échelle du colombier et monta devant moi. Dans le colombier il se
posa les deux coudes au bord de la lucarne un peu basse, se
penchant pour voir. Je regardais par-dessus son épaule. Toute la
route, à perte de vue, était couverte de monde : de la cavalerie, de
l’infanterie, des canons, des caissons, des manteaux rouges, des
pelisses vertes, des habits blancs, des casques, des cuirasses, des
files de lances et des baïonnettes, des lignes de chevaux, et tout
cela s’avançait vers le village.
« C’est une armée ! » murmurait le capitaine à voix basse.
Il se retourna brusquement pour redescendre, mais s’arrêtant sur
une idée, il me montra le long du village, à deux portées de fusil, une
file de manteaux rouges qui s’enfonçaient dans un repli de terrain
derrière les vergers.
« Tu vois ces manteaux rouges ? dit-il.
— Oui.
— Est-ce qu’un chemin de voiture passe là ?
— Non, c’est un sentier.
— Et ce grand ravin qui le coupe au milieu, droit devant nous,
est-ce qu’il est profond ?
— Oh ! oui.
— On n’y passe jamais avec les voitures et les charrues ?
— Non, on ne peut pas. »
Alors, sans m’en demander davantage, il redescendit l’échelle à
reculons, aussi vite que possible, et se jeta dans l’escalier. Je le
suivais ; nous fûmes bientôt en bas, mais nous n’étions pas encore
au bout de l’allée, que l’approche d’une masse de cavalerie faisait
frémir les maisons. Malgré cela, le capitaine sortit, traversa la place,
écarta deux hommes dans les rangs et disparut.
Des milliers de cris brefs, étranges, semblables à ceux d’une
nuée de corbeaux : « Hourrah ! hourrah ! » remplissaient alors la rue
d’un bout à l’autre, et couvraient presque le roulement sourd du
galop.
Moi, tout fier d’avoir conduit le capitaine dans le colombier, j’eus
l’imprudence de m’avancer sur la porte. Les uhlans, car cette fois
c’étaient des uhlans, arrivaient comme le vent, la lance en arrêt, le
dolman en peau de mouton flottant sur le dos, les oreilles enfoncées
dans leurs gros bonnets à poils, les yeux écarquillés, le nez comme
enfoui dans les moustaches, et le grand pistolet à crosse de cuivre
dans la ceinture. Ce fut comme une vision, je n’eus que le temps de
me jeter en arrière ; je n’avais plus une goutte de sang dans les
veines, et ce n’est qu’au moment où la fusillade recommença que je
me réveillai comme d’un rêve, au fond de notre chambre, en face
des fenêtres brisées.
L’air était obscurci, le carré tout blanc de fumée. Le commandant
se voyait seul derrière, immobile sur son cheval, près de la fontaine ;
on l’aurait pris pour une statue de bronze, à travers ce flot bleuâtre,
d’où jaillissaient des centaines de flammes rouges. Les uhlans,
comme d’immenses sauterelles, bondissaient tout autour, dardaient
leurs lances et les retiraient ; d’autres lâchaient leurs grands pistolets
dans les rangs, à quatre pas.
Il me semblait que le carré pliait ; c’était vrai.
« Serrez les rangs ! tenez ferme ! criait le commandant de sa voix
calme.
— Serrez les rangs ! serrez ! » répétaient les officiers de distance
en distance.
Mais le carré pliait, il formait un demi-cercle au milieu ; le centre
touchait presque la fontaine. A chaque coup de lance, arrivait la
parade de la baïonnette comme l’éclair, mais quelquefois l’homme
s’affaissait. Les Républicains n’avaient plus le temps de recharger ;
ils ne tiraient plus, et les uhlans arrivaient toujours, plus nombreux,
plus hardis, enveloppant le carré dans leur tourbillon, et poussant
déjà des cris de triomphe, car ils se croyaient vainqueurs.
Moi-même, je croyais les Républicains perdus lorsque, au plus
fort de l’action, le commandant, levant son chapeau au bout de son
sabre se mit à chanter une chanson qui vous donnait la chair de
poule, et tout le bataillon, comme un seul homme, se mit à chanter
avec lui.
En un clin d’œil tout le devant du carré se redressa, refoulant
dans la rue toute cette masse de cavaliers, pressés les uns contre
les autres, avec leurs grandes lances, comme les épis dans les
champs.
 On aurait dit que cette chanson rendait les Républicains furieux ;
c’est tout ce que j’ai vu de plus terrible ! Et depuis j’ai pensé bien des
fois que les hommes acharnés à la bataille sont plus féroces que les
bêtes sauvages.
Mais ce qu’il y avait encore de plus affreux, c’est que les derniers
rangs de la colonne autrichienne, tout au bout de la rue, ne voyant
pas ce qui se passait à l’entrée de la place, avançaient toujours
criant : « Hourrah ! hourrah ! » de sorte que ceux des premiers rangs
poussés par les baïonnettes des Républicains, et ne pouvant plus
reculer, s’agitaient dans une confusion inexprimable et jetaient des
cris de détresse ; leurs grands chevaux, piqués aux naseaux, se
dressaient, la crinière droite, les yeux hors de la tête, avec des
hennissements grêles et des ruades épouvantables. Je voyais de
loin ces malheureux uhlans, fous de terreur, se retourner, en
frappant leurs camarades du manche de leurs lances pour se faire
place, et détaler comme des lièvres le long des petites cassines.
Deux minutes après, la rue était vide. Il restait bien encore vingt-
cinq ou trente de ces pauvres diables, enfermés dans la place. Ils
n’avaient pas vu la retraite et semblaient tout déconcertés, ne
sachant par où fuir ; mais ce fut bientôt fini : une nouvelle décharge
les coucha sur le dos, sauf deux ou trois qui s’enfoncèrent dans la
ruelle des Tanneurs.
On ne voyait plus que des tas de chevaux et d’hommes morts ; le
sang coulait au-dessous et suivait notre rigole jusqu’au guévoir.
« Cessez le feu ! cria le commandant pour la seconde fois ;
chargez ! »
Dans le même instant neuf heures sonnaient à l’église. Le village
en ce moment n’est pas à dépeindre ; les maisons criblées de balles,
les volets pendant à leurs gonds, les fenêtres défoncées, les
cheminées chancelantes, la rue pleine de tuiles et de briques
fracassées, les toits des hangars percés à jour, et ce tas de morts,
ces chevaux bousculés, se débattant et saignant : on ne peut se le
figurer.