To Love a Spy

by Aileen Fish

She could scarcely believe the truth of it. The fact was almost surreal. Part of her expected to startle awake and find that she’d dozed off on the settee. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d had such dreams about Cole or her brother coming home. Of course in those dreams the men always marched jauntily through yard, looking as smart in their uniforms as the day they’d left. Tonight Cole looked as though he’d narrowly escaped a brush with Hades, and she feared he hadn’t escaped him yet. Silently she prayed that the Yankee soldier’s would bypass what remained of her small farm so that she could return to Cole before life slipped away from him.

  She dashed through up the wooden steps porch steps and rushed through the open front door. She quickly shut the portal behind her and leaned heavily against the wood, breathing erratically. Uncertainty gnawed at her.

  Be calm and think, she mentally coached. Cole needs me.

  She dragged several steadying breaths into her lungs, and fought for calm, striving to put her thoughts in order. She glanced around the house. Everything in perfect order. If soldiers did come to search her home there would be nothing out of the ordinary to make them suspicious. The logic soothed her a bit and she paced away from the door, glancing through the window facing the barn. She wondered how long she should wait before going back to the barn to fetch him.

  Wait… she hated waiting. She was a woman of action, and despised the sense of powerlessness that accompanied waiting.

  Resisting the childish urge to stamp her foot in frustration, she glanced down and spied a smear of Cole’s blood on the bare skin of her arm. She startled. Juliet wasn’t squeamish by nature, but the sight of her fiancé’s blood unsettled her nonetheless. Crossing to the washstand she quickly rinsed the blood from her arm. She stared through the rippling water at the sapphire engagement ring resting on her finger. The water undulated in the porcelain bowel, distorting the gemstone. Juliet frowned as yet another troubling thought dawned on her. Why had Cole ask her not to give him up? It seemed an odd request. Why would she give anyone up to the Yankees?

  Disconcerted, she dried her arm on the towel beside the washstand, and lifted her gaze to the window. Almost instantly her heart dropped as the moonlight illuminated several soldiers marching onto her lawn. One, two, three… six. Six soldiers approached her house on foot and a seventh rode in on horseback. Given the darkness it was impossible to tell which uniform the men wore. She swallowed hard and retrieved the loaded rifle waiting behind the front door, steeling herself for the confrontation to come.

  This couldn’t have happened on a worse night. Mama was away at a neighboring farm assisting a laboring woman about to give birth, and Juliet was completely alone at the farm.

  A hearty rap sounded at the door.

  Heart pounding, she lifted the rifle and slowly opened the door surprised to find a tall, blonde man in a rag-tag Confederate uniform standing before her. Given the meager lighting and the worn state of his dress she couldn’t rightly tell if his uniform was homespun brown or if it had once been gray. A bit of guarded relief that these were not Yankees on her doorstep flowed through her.

  “Good evening, ma’am.” The young soldier tugged the battered forage cap from his head, and nodded politely. “I am Sergeant Curtis Jennings, and I apologize for the disruption, but we are searching for a man.”

  Juliet’s spirits plunged. “Oh?” she replied coolly.

  “Yes. He is a Confederate soldier and we believe he’s smuggling information to the Yankees. We’ve been tracking him for some time now, and have reason to believe he’s wounded. Has anyone stopped by your farm seeking aide?”

  Juliet’s blood ran cold. Please don’t give me up… Cole’s broken plea ran through her mind. Struggling to reconcile the information this soldier presented with Cole’s sudden appearance that night, she forced herself to remain outwardly collected.

  “I’m afraid not, Sergeant,” she lied smoothly. She wasn’t about to turn Cole over to these men until she learned the truth of what was going on herself. Not in the condition he was in. “You and your men are the only visitors we’ve had for several days.” She peered around Sergeant Jennings to the other soldier’s. Irritation instantly flashed through her as she recognized the mounted officer as Captain Reynolds. A most arrogant and unpleasant man. He’d commandeered the magnificent black gelding he currently sat astride from her farm a few months ago. Stuffing down her discontent she feigned placidity. “Could I offer you and your men any food or drink? We haven’t much, but you are welcome to share it.”

  The tired sergeant replaced his cap. “Thank you, ma’am, but no. We must keep on the trail.” He turned in the direction of the barn. “We’ll need to search your barn in case the traitor is hiding there without your knowledge.”

  Maintaining an air of placidity, Juliet shifted her gaze to barn. “You’re welcome to search, sergeant, and I wish you luck in apprehending your fugitive.” She glanced back to the sergeant, making firm eye contact. “Would it be all right if I accompany you while you search?”

  “Of course, ma’am.”

  Hands shaking, Juliet lifted her rifle and followed Sergeant Jennings from the porch into the chilly night air.

  Sergeant Jennings glanced at the rifle and lifted a questioning brow.

  “These days I’m always prepared for trouble, Sergeant.”

  “Probably wise.” The sergeant turned away and waved to his men. “All right, gents!” He jogged down the porch steps. “We’re going to search the barn.”

  Juliet followed, taking quick stock of the additional soldiers milling about her yard. She slowed when her gaze settled on Captain Reynolds. After last summer she’d hoped never to lay eyes on the arrogant brute again.

  As if sensing her perusal Captain Reynolds shifted in the saddle and his calculating gaze rested instantly upon her. “Miss Jackson,” he drawled, a self-assured smirk quirking his lips. “I think often of our meeting last summer. It is unfortunate I haven’t had the opportunity to call on you before now.”

  Juliet tightened her grip on the rifle as disgust slithered through her belly. She didn’t find the fact unfortunate at all. Reynolds was a snake in the grass whatever gentlemanly words happened to roll elegantly off his tongue.

  “Tell me, Miss Jackson.” Reynolds draped an arm over the pommel of his saddle and leaned casually toward her. “Do you still fancy yourself engaged?”

  She gritted her teeth, stuffing back the overpowering urge to physically wipe the smug look off his face. “Practically married,” she replied, hoping her coldness would dissuade any remaining notion that she might encourage his affections.

  Reynolds narrowed his eyes at her and smirked.

  Sergeant Jennings cleared his throat, interrupting the uncomfortable exchange. “Miss Jackson was kind enough to offer us refreshments, and is being more than cooperative given this late hour. I’ll ask every man here to treat her and her property with respect.” Sergeant Jennings offered her a polite nod and a soft, reassuring smile.

  “What do you take us for, Sarge? A bunch of heathen Yankees?”

  The other men guffawed, and called out their agreement.

  “Merely setting the lady’s mind at ease,” Sergeant Jennings placated, but Juliet sensed an undercurrent in his tone that added to her unease. “As you can see she is armed.”

  A low chuckle rolled through the haggard group of soldiers.

  Sergeant Jennings motioned for the men to ready their weapons and file into the barn. Juliet watched with bated breath. The lot of them made for a sorry sight. Their uniforms were dirty and mismatched, their boots were worn, and each of the men looked a bit lean in the face as though they frequently hadn’t enough to eat. She had little time to dwell on their tattered appearance, however, as the lot of them dispersed inside her barn. The men conducted an extremely thorough search by lantern light, and Juliet barely breathed as they scoured every inch of the barn. She forced herself not to stare at the simple panel that hid Cole in the secret compartment, and focused instead on a sold
ier rather viciously stabbing her hay. She prayed for the moment Sergeant Jennings would call off the search and move on. She shifted her gaze to the young leader, noting that the despicable Captain Reynolds had not even bothered to enter the barn.

  Brow furrowed, the Sergeant knelt and touched his fingers to the dirt. “Jimmy, bring that lantern closer. There is blood on the ground here.” His eyes snapped to Juliet. “Do you have an explanation for this?”

  Slowly Juliet advanced on Sergeant Jennings. Her heart slammed and her mind spun. She prayed the desperation pulsing through her didn’t shine through in her face. “Blood?” she glanced around the barn, feigning bewilderment and concern. “I have no idea how it could have gotten there. Unless…” she hesitated, making eye contact with Sergeant Jennings. “Do you suppose he was hiding here before you arrived?”

  “If he was, he’s gone now,” another soldier stated, descending the ladder from the loft. “The barn is empty, Sarge. No one here but us.”

  Jennings stood, a muscle working testily in his jaw. “This blood is fresh, he can’t have gone far. We’re closing in, boys, let’s go.” The sergeant faced Juliet. “My thanks for your cooperation, Miss Jackson. Will you be all right here alone?”

  Juliet smiled at the man’s genuine kindness. “I’ll be fine. My mother is a midwife. She’s at a neighboring farm for a birth, and I expect her back any time. Good luck finding your traitor, Sergeant.”

  Jennings nodded and strode from the barn.

  Juliet quickly followed, gripping her rifle tightly as the soldier’s rode off. Carefully biding her time, she returned to the house and replaced the rifle in it’s hiding place behind the door. She didn’t want to return for Cole too quickly in case the soldier’s circled back in their search. Trembling, she paced the narrow hall by the front door. Surely Cole wasn’t a traitor to the south. There must be a mistake. No doubt she’d fetch him from the barn and he’d confirm that the accusations were nothing more than a miserable misunderstanding.

  When she could no longer bear to wait, she went to the sitting room and doused the lamp. If the soldier’s remained near she didn’t want her silhouette visible as she slipped from the house once again. Washed in the darkness she slipped from the house and hastened to the barn. Worry ate at her as she made her way carefully through the barn to the far wall. She felt for the familiar notches in the wood and opened the panel once more.

  “Cole,” she whispered urgently. “The soldier’s have gone. It’s safe to come out.”

  Stillness was her only reply.

  “Cole!” she called more loudly, panic creeping into her voice.

  A low groan rose up from the darkness.

  “Cole, can you make it out?”

  “Yes,” he rasped, voice gravelly and hoarse. Soft scuffling from within the hidden compartment quickly followed his reply and soon his shadowy silhouette appeared before her.

  She could sense his presence near her more so than she could see him in the inky darkness. It had always been that way between them. Even as children, too young to understand love, the two of them had been close. Unfortunately the transition to sweethearts hadn’t occurred nearly as smoothly or quickly as Juliet may have liked. Cole hadn’t seen fit to declare himself to her until the day he’d marched out to war. Men could be such a frustrating lot. She reached out, grasping his bicep as he crawled from the space. He didn’t stand, but collapsed against the barn wall. Terror griped her as she dropped down and closed the panel before looping her arm through Cole’s, and giving him a tug.

  “Get up, Cole. Let’s get to the house so I can tend your wound.”

  Wordlessly he lurched to his feet, and she lashed her arms around his waist to lend him support. He leaned heavily on her.

  “You’re shivering.” She curled her arm more securely around his middle and steered him toward the barn doors. She realized immediately that the sweat drenching his clothes was chilling in the night air. “We’ll get you inside and into some dry clothes.” He’d need fluids as well. She already had water, and some broth from the chicken soup she’d eaten for dinner in the house.

  Cole stumbled twice as they traversed the yard, and fear continued to creep through Juliet. How unfair it would be if he returned to her only to die that night! With effort she beat back the miserable thought. If she meant to help him then she must keep a level head. She helped Cole into the house and directed him toward the sitting room. By the time they reached the next room they were both breathing heavily, and she dumped him onto the settee beside the fireplace. She quickly rushed to the windows and closed the curtains before lighting a lamp and stoking the low-burning coals in the fireplace. She tossed a couple fat logs onto the fire before facing Cole.

  She gasped, getting her first good look at him since his arrival at her doorstep. Cole’s haggard appearance pierced straight through her. His handsome face was streaked with sweat and mud, and burgundy blood darkened the right shoulder and chest of his tattered uniform. A satchel hung at his side, and he clenched his silver pistol in a white knuckled fist. He lay on the settee with his eyes closed, every breath ragged and pained.

  “W-we should get you out of that wet uniform,” she said, forcing herself into action. She didn’t like to be idle, but the degree of Cole’s injuries appeared to be a little out of her realm. I wish Mama were here. Her mother was a skilled healer, and would know exactly how to tend Cole’s wounds. She’d taught Juliet some of what she knew, but this was a far cry from minor cuts and bruises and the occasional broken bone. Unfortunately she had no idea when to expect her mother back. Deliveries might take hours or days. Juliet threw open the trunk shoved against the wall and snatched out a spare blanket. “Can you sit up?”

  Slowly Cole’s pale gray-blue eyes opened and focused on her. “Yes,” he croaked, wrenching himself upward. Exhaustion plagued his features.

  Juliet crossed back to the sofa, attempting to take the revolver from his hand. His grip steeled around it with more strength than she’d expected him to possess. “It’s all right,” she soothed. “I’m just going to set it by the sofa. You’re safe here.” For a moment their eyes locked and Cole’s gaze softened as he finally relinquished his weapon, and allowed her to set it aside.

  Next she lifted the leather satchel from his torso and placed it on the floor before swiftly unfastening the gold buttons lining the front of his uniform jacket. Carefully she pushed the coat from his shoulders, and helped him shrug out of the heavy garment. He grimaced, but made no protestation. On impulse she grabbed the sweat and blood soaked undershirt and simply ripped it off. More carefully she peeled the remaining cloth away from his injured shoulder to better assess his wound.

  “I’d say you’re lucky,” she said, cocking her head to the side. “You’re hit high in the shoulder. I’m not a doctor, but I don’t think this will cause any lasting damage.”

  He nodded weakly and flexed the fingers of his right hand as though assuring himself they still worked.

  Juliet stepped back to retrieve a quilt from the woven basket near the fireplace. The sight of Cole slumped on the edge of the sofa so broken and vulnerable nearly undid her. He had always been so powerful and strong. A rock. Her rock. A lump formed in her throat as she stepped before him and snugged the blanket around his broad, well-muscled shoulders.

  For a moment his eyes locked with hers. Pain, fatigue, and a wealth of unreadable emotion filled their depths. He lifted his good hand and threaded thick, trembling fingers through her hair. The calloused pad of his thumb stroked the sensitive skin just below her ear, sending shivers through her. “Thank you, Jules,” he murmured. For a moment she thought he’d say more, but his hand fell away and his eyes drifted shut.

  She backed quickly away. “I’ll go fetch some water and bandages.” As she left the room, a wealth of long shuttered hopes and dreams rushed through her mind. Dare she hope Cole was home to stay? Wounded soldiers couldn’t fight. Maybe he’d be discharged from service. They could finally marry, and start the life s
he’d been dreaming of for three long years.

  Juliet fingered the engagement ring on her left hand.

  But what of the soldier’s who’d scoured her barn in search of a traitor? Could it be true? Was Cole a turncoat? Or was this all a misunderstanding?

  For just a moment Juliet contemplated the inevitable horrible decision she’d have to make if Cole turned out to be a traitor. She shuddered, and shoved the miserable thoughts aside as she retrieved the medicine chest from her mother’s bedroom. There would be time for answers in the morning. The soldiers had moved on. For now more pressing matters lay at hand, like caring for Cole’s wound.

  Chapter 2

  The mantel clock ticked mercilessly as the long hours of the night slid past. With effort Juliet resisted the urge to check the time again. It must be well past midnight, but every time she glanced at the clock face only a matter of minutes had passed. It was maddening. She wanted morning to come. She wanted her mother to arrive home. In short… she wanted answers! In the past few hours her entire world had turned on it’s head and where Cole’s homecoming should have been joyous, it left her empty and frightened instead.

  Unable to sleep, she huddled in a chair beside the fireplace facing Cole. For hours she watched him… listened to him breath. The flickering orange glow from the fire cast a surreal aura over his sleeping form, adding to the dreamlike quality of the entire situation. Even with his tangible form reclined on her sofa she could scarcely believe he’d returned home. He shifted slightly in his sleep and one of the blankets slipped from his body to the floor. Instantly Juliet rose to retrieve it. Crouched beside the sofa she took a moment and gently rested a palm on his bare chest. His skin was warm and dry, and the rush of his breathing was much less labored now. The heavy bandages she’d applied to his shoulder were holding well, and no fresh blood had soaked through. Earlier she’d washed some of the grime and dried blood from his face and torso, but he still appeared haggard and drawn. A mere shadow of the strapping, assured man she remembered. With a heavy sigh she lifted the heavy quilt and spread it back over his sleeping form.