Erin's Rebel

by Susan Macatee

  “But I fear for your welfare here.”

  “Just as we all feared for you and Sam when you went off to war.”

  “That’s different—”

  “If you say because you’re a man—” Jenny raised her palm toward him, “—I fear I shall have to scream.”

  “I can’t protect you here,” he protested.

  “I don’t need your or any man’s protection. Miss Erin says that in the future men and women will be equals.” Her chin lifted.

  “Is that right?” Apparently, she hadn’t told his sister her fantastic story of her travel through time. But after seeing how Erin dealt with Wagner, he began to think she could show a man a thing or two.

  “In the future, she says, I can do anything I want, and no man can stop me.”

  “All right,” he relented. “I’ll send word that I haven’t seen you, but I warn you—”

  “I know. One complaint...” She rolled her eyes. “You won’t hear a single one from my lips.”

  He nodded. But he doubted Jenny would adjust to the harshness of camp life. In a few days time, he was certain he’d be sending his parents word of his sister’s arrival home.

  ****

  After rubbing his hands briskly together, Jake blew on them to ease the chill. A crusty layer of snow covered the camp, and the sun hadn’t yet made an appearance today, if it ever would.

  Charlie lumbered toward him, his thick hands wrapped around a steaming mug.

  “Is that coffee?” Jake couldn’t recall what real coffee tasted like.

  “Coffee?” Charlie wheezed. “Where in the hell would I get a thing like that?”

  “Then what is it?” Jake’s patience was on edge.

  The big man grimaced. “It’s that damnable chicory blend. Tastes kinda like seasoned dishwater if you ask me, but it’s hot. Like some?”

  “Reckon so.”

  “C’mere. I’ve got a pot brewing. Maybe the flavor will seep into the next cup.” He motioned Jake to his grate, where a small fire flickered.

  Jake crouched and held his hands close to the flame. Charlie grabbed a towel and lifted the pot. Jake reached to untie his mug from his belt and lifted it for the other man to fill. He took a quick gulp, savoring the warmth, if not the flavor.

  Charlie motioned to a couple of stools. They both sat.

  “Reckon now that spring’s comin’, the fightin’ will start up again.” Charlie looked off into the distance.

  Jake frowned. “Reckon the Yankees are gonna win this thing anyway.”

  “Then we might as well all go home.”

  Jake shook his head. “It’s a lost cause. Never should have gotten into this thing. Should have gone up north and joined up with those Yankee boys.”

  “We have to fight for our homes and families,” Charlie protested.

  “I got none of those. Got nuthin’ at all.”

  Charlie shrugged. “Why don’t you just desert, then?”

  “And be shot?”

  “Reckon you’re stuck here, like the rest of us. Until the bitter end.”

  Jake dumped his grounds into the fire pit and rose. “Reckon so. I’ve got to clean my rifle before inspection.”

  After Jake returned to his tent, he considered what Charlie had said. Why not desert? Since Erin had come back, she’d completely cut him off in every way. The captain seemed to be watching him constantly, always ready to pounce. And Montgomery seemed to find fault with everything he did. He’d been put on report three times since that high and mighty bastard had returned.

  Since he’d taken her journal, Erin had tried to sweet talk him into giving it back, but he refused to give it up. He needed that book to insure she wouldn’t betray him now that she’d cozied up to the captain.

  She had Montgomery’s sister staying with her. She was a sweet little thing, too, but he couldn’t go near her without bringing down more of the captain’s wrath.

  He couldn’t talk to Erin without someone overhearing. He’d a mind to leave the journal for the colonel to find, then desert. He could head north. Make a new life for himself now that his extra income had been cut off.

  But he wasn’t quite ready to do that.

  Yet.

  ****

  For days, Will watched Wagner skirt around Erin’s tent, like a dog waiting for leavings. Jenny’s presence obviously kept him away. But now he had to worry the man would harm his sister. He’d never believed Erin’s story that he was a relative. What were they to each other?

  After the crazy time travel story, he’d started to wonder about the papers he’d found near her tent the night—nearly nine months ago—when she’d fallen from the mare. He suspected she may have dropped them, but he’d never suggested that to the colonel. Blinded by a beautiful woman, he found himself unwilling to believe she could be in any way responsible for traitorous activity.

  If she could tell him an outrageous story about time travel, how easy would it have been for her to lie about everything—her relationship with Wagner, where she’d come from. He wondered if anything she’d told him had been true.

  What about Wagner? Will had no trouble believing him capable of treachery.

  He needed to know the truth about those two.

  Erin talked to Doc. If she were a Yankee spy, she wouldn’t reveal it to the doctor, but she could have let something slip, or said something that may have aroused suspicions.

  He decided to pay Doc a visit and found him sitting down to a meal of salt pork and cornbread.

  “Join me?” Doc asked.

  Will shook his head. “I just need to ask you something.”

  “Ask me what?” Doc motioned at the seat across from him, then took a bite of his bread and chewed while he waited for Will’s question.

  “I know you’ve grown fond of Mrs. O’Connell.” Will pulled out the chair and sat.

  “Erin’s been helpful and good for my patients.”

  “You call her Erin? That seems a bit familiar.”

  Doc reddened. “She insisted. She doesn’t like being called Mrs. O’Connell or ma’am.” When Will didn’t reply, he blanched. “Just what, sir, are you insinuating? I’m a married man.”

  “Who hasn’t seen his wife in over a year.”

  “Erin and I are friends.” Doc rose and glared at Will. “She’s very intelligent and not squeamish in the least. I do believe she’d make an excellent doctor.”

  “She’s a laundress,” Will stated.

  “You’ve spent a great deal of time with her.” Doc took his seat but leaned forward over the table. “You must have noticed how different she is from other women in camp.”

  Will slid his finger over his lower lip. Since he’d known Doc from before the war, he could trust this man with his life. “I found pages torn from a journal last summer outside her tent.”

  “What was on them?” Doc’s brow furrowed.

  “Handwritten notes on troop movements—ours.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “That someone in camp is or was spying for the Yankees.”

  “No.” Doc shook his head. “You’re not saying Erin—”

  “I found the pages in the spot where she fell.”

  “Did you question her about it?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “She’d hit her head. Didn’t remember anything,” he replied in way of explanation.

  “And afterward? Didn’t you report this to anyone else?”

  “Of course. I gave the pages to the colonel. But nothing was ever proved. I had no reason to suspect her of espionage.”

  Doc brushed a finger over his mustache. “She’s never given me any indication that she may be a spy.”

  “If she’s good at her job, I don’t suppose she would.”

  “Just what do you plan to do?” Doc locked his gaze with Will.

  Will shrugged. “I’ve been keeping an eye on her.” In truth if he found out she was a spy, could he turn her in? She was the first woman since Anne who ca
used his pulse to race. He’d felt that way since the day he’d first laid eyes on her. But the time travel story had alerted his defenses. Could she have used that tale to cover the real truth?

  Doc studied him a moment, then nodded, saying nothing more.

  Will rose from the table and turned to leave.

  “Take care, Will,” Doc called after him.

  Will inclined his head in acknowledgment, then walked away. Doc could most likely read his thoughts concerning Erin. But he had to guard his heart. The loss of Anne had wounded it almost beyond repair. He’d given Erin the brooch as well as his heart, body, and soul only to have everything ripped from him again.

  ****

  Light rain pattered against the canvas over Erin’s head. Lying awake, she listened to Jenny’s steady breathing on the bunk across from her. Erin truly liked the young woman and felt a connection to her plight. If anyone had tried to force her to marry a man she didn’t love, she’d bolt, too. Luckily, in her time, things like that didn’t happen. Her mother had seemed almost relieved when she’d announced her marriage to Rick had been called off. To her credit, Mom had kept her opinions of Rick to herself and supported Erin through the many wedding cancellations.

  She sighed, pulled her quilt around her and rose. Sleep wasn’t possible right now. She kept reliving the night she’d spent with Will.

  Trying not to wake Jenny, she eased her way out of the tent. Soft rain continued to patter overhead on the tarp that shielded the entrance. After she’d told Will who she really was, she’d felt such a rush of relief.

  But he hadn’t believed her. Now he thought she was crazy.

  Erin sank onto a wooden chair she’d set out to do mending that day. Tracing a finger over her lips, she recalled his kiss, the feel of his hard naked body as they’d made love, and the thrill when he’d caressed and held her close.

  He’d come to her rescue three times already and had declared his love. She’d made a serious mistake by being truthful. She never should have expected him to believe her tale.

  Right now she could use those strong masculine arms around her, telling her everything would be all right.

  She may have destroyed everything she’d been sent here to do.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Erin stood at the threshold of the funeral parlor room where Grandma Rose had been laid for viewing. The cloying scent of so many flowers crammed into the small space had sent her out to get some air, while her mother and other relatives held court before the oak coffin.

  As she stepped back inside, mourners offered their sympathy. After accepting their condolences, she approached the body. Grandma looked small and frail as she had just before her death. Erin laid a hand on the smooth edge of the coffin. A jolt shot through her, turning her knees to jelly. Grandma’s blue eyes opened wide.

  Erin gasped. No one around her seemed to notice. Her gaze locked with Grandma’s. Her pale lips parted. “You are Erin O’Connell,” she said.

  “What?”

  Erin sat bolt upright. A dream.

  Jenny’s steady breathing brought her back to reality. She remained in the past. But Grandma had said she was Erin O’Connell.

  She perched on the edge of her cot. Before coming here, she’d speculated about the dreams being memories of a past life. Was she the Yankee spy Grandma had told her stories about?

  If that were true, it would explain a lot, except for why she was here now. If she’d lived this life before, why had she no memory of what was to happen? Could she be lying in a coma reliving her past life, while she still retained memories of her life in the twenty-first century?

  Trembling, she gathered the quilt about her, rose, and left the tent. She paced the length of the overhead tarp, forcing herself to remember. If she had lived this life before, she had to know how the story ended.

  Erin slowed her pacing as she started to feel separated from her body. She was on a ship, feeling the pitch of the waves beneath her feet. Halting, she concentrated on the vision forcing its way into her mind.

  ****

  She’d been seasick for days as the ship continued to heave and roll. Some of the passengers were ill, but not all from the sea—they were starving. That’s why they’d left their home. The English had made life in Ireland unbearable.

  She’d hated leaving her parents, but they’d urged their offspring to go to America. They wanted their children to have a chance at a better life. At the dock of Killarney, her parents stood huddled, frail, sunken, and defeated, sending their children—their future—away forever. That was the last she’d seen her ma and da.

  Days later, after the sea finally calmed, she made her way on deck, raising her face and closing her eyes to absorb the warmth of the sun.

  “Here, lass.” A male voice startled her. “You look like you could use this.”

  She looked into the eyes of an auburn-haired man, holding out a crust of brown bread.

  Eyeing him suspiciously, she took in his shabby state of dress. But his hazel eyes were kind. “Thank you, sir.” She accepted the bread. “Where did you get this?”

  He winked. “I have me ways. Stick with me, and yer passage will be easier.”

  She stared at him in awe. “You’re not a crew member. Who are you?”

  “Rory O’Connell.” He removed his cap with a flourish. “I’m goin’ to America to start a new life.”

  “I’m Erin Coyne,” she replied while chewing.

  Many days had passed since she’d eaten anything to stop her stomach from complaining. The small bit of food her parents had managed to scrounge up had to be divided among her six siblings. She’d had little more than a morsel each day since they’d left Ireland. A knot formed in her stomach as she recalled her brothers and sister languishing below deck. She was a horrible sister, but she couldn’t resist easing the terrible gnawing in her stomach.

  “Pleased to meet you, Miss Coyne.”

  “And you as well, Mr. O’Connell.”

  He winked again, produced a flask and handed it to her. Without a thought, she raised it to her lips, gasping in delight after the liquid burned its way down her throat.

  “Irish whiskey!”

  “Only the finest for such a lovely lass.”

  She smiled, warming to the comely man. “What do you plan to do in America?”

  “Oh, I have me plans. Once we make port in New York, I have contacts that will set me up just fine.”

  “Is that so?” She suspected this man was full of blarney.

  “Stick with me, Miss Coyne. I’ll help you get on yer feet in the New World.”

  “And why would you be doing that? You don’t even know me?” Her suspicions rose at his familiarity.

  “I have a feeling about you, lass.”

  ****

  Erin gasped. How had she remembered that? It had felt so real, as if she had been the Irish emigrant aboard that ship. She’d felt the nauseating seasickness, experienced gnawing hunger. Somehow, she seemed to be remembering Erin O’Connell’s thoughts. The man she’d spoken with must have been Erin O’Connell’s husband. She wondered why she remembered this now.

  A shiver ran down her spine. Never before had she experienced anything so mystic. In her own time, she could have visited someone who did past life regressions to shed light on the situation. Did people in this time believe reincarnation possible? Was she seeing through her great-great-great aunt’s eyes, or had she been Erin O’Connell?

  Left with nothing but questions, she resumed pacing before the tent in the inky darkness.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  October 1864

  Cedar Creek, Virginia

  Will paced before the troops assembled in the chilly evening air. The generals planned to attack the Federal soldiers while they slept and rouse them from their tents. The Confederate soldiers had to start marching now, to make Federal camp before dawn. In the darkness, he could barely make out the faces of his men.

  “Ow!” a gruff voice bellowed. “What’d you do that f
or?”

  “I can’t see but a few inches in front of me. How was I to know your big foot was there?” a voice whined in defense.

  “Quiet in the ranks,” Will ordered. Peering through the mist, he tried to distinguish the source of the disruption. Jake Wagner’s sullen face glared at him as the sergeant lifted his rifle to his shoulder.

  I should have known. His jaw tightened when he pictured Wagner manhandling Erin.

  “Is there a problem, Sergeant?” Will asked.

  “Yes, sir, there is,” Wagner replied. “How are we supposed to attack the Yankees when we can’t see where we’re goin’?”

  A few of the men grumbled assent.

  “We are going to take the Yankees by surprise. They won’t expect an attack while it’s still dark.”

  “Sounds foolhardy to me,” Wagner griped.

  Will spun toward the sergeant. “When I want your opinion, Sergeant, I’ll ask for it. Until then, you do as you’re ordered.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  While the men settled down to await further orders, Will worried about Wagner. He didn’t trust the man. He’d best keep him in sight to be sure the plan wasn’t thwarted from the start.

  And if he found any evidence of espionage, he’d be only too happy to bring him up on charges.

  ****

  Once Montgomery was out of earshot, Charlie Ross muttered, “Reckon you’re goin’ on report again.”

  “The hell I am,” Jake said, seething.

  “There’s no doubt the captain’s got it in for you,” Charlie continued.

  Jake peered through the moonlight at the big man beside him. “Like I don’t know that already.”

  “It’s that washer woman, isn’t it? Montgomery’s sweet on her.”

  “Shut your—”

  “Wagner!” the lieutenant reprimanded.

  “Sir?”

  “Keep order in the ranks, Sergeant.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jake saluted, then sent Charlie a reproachful glance.

  “Reckon we’ll surprise the hell out of the Yankees,” the big man said when the lieutenant moved away.

  When the captain gave the order to form up, Jake clenched his jaw. He shouldn’t be here. If he had deserted after Erin and Montgomery had returned, he’d be safely up north. Instead, he had to go into battle, again. Another chance for the Yankees to kill or maim him. He wasn’t about to die for these accursed Southerners. He’d never been one of them.