“Sure will, Doc.”
Doc had set up a hospital in one of the homes in Petersburg. Will lay on a mat on a hardwood floor on the second floor of a three-story townhouse. Wounded soldiers surrounded him, taking up all available space.
Will studied the girl. She placed the basin on the floor beside him. She appeared to be no more than fifteen or sixteen. During the Yankee siege, the citizens of Petersburg had offered their homes and services to help the wounded.
“What’s your name, young lady?” he asked.
“I’m Jenny Claymore.”
“I have a sister named Jenny, although I believe she’s a bit older than you. Do you live here?”
“Yes, sir. My mama and me live here. My papa and brothers are in the trenches, but they stop by from time to time.” She studied him. “Where does your sister live?”
“Up in Northern Virginia, near Winchester. She’s married and expecting her first child.”
“How wonderful.” The girl soaked the towel, preparing to bathe him. “Is her husband a soldier, too?”
“Yes, but he was wounded, and I haven’t had the chance to inquire about him.”
“I’m sure he’s just fine,” The girl parted his shirt and started to gently wash him. “He may have been sent home already.”
“I do hope so.” Will enjoyed the feel of the warm, sudsy water against his skin. Memories of Erin caring for him back in Gettysburg and later in his home flooded back.
“Are you married, Captain?”
“No, ma’am. My Anne died just as the war started.”
When the girl’s washcloth moved closer to his private area, she averted her gaze, blushing a bright pink.
Trying to cover up the awkward silence, he added, “I do have a daughter named Amanda.”
“How old?”
“Let’s see.” He counted back. “Reckon she’s about seven now.”
The girl smiled. “Bet you can’t wait to go home and see her.”
“You’re so right, ma’am.”
She finished washing him and helped him change into a clean shirt. Will wondered if he’d ever make it home again. And thoughts of home led to thoughts of Erin. He’d sent her away for her own safety. He couldn’t protect her. Hell, he couldn’t even help himself. He hoped wherever she’d ended up, she was all right.
****
Erin adjusted her shawl, then retied the ribbons on her felt bonnet for the hundredth time. The damn thing just wouldn’t stay knotted, and she was ready to chuck it. Of course, if she did, she’d undoubtedly create a public scandal.
Opening the door to the newspaper office, she drew in a sharp breath. She was prepared to do battle with her editor to get what she wanted.
Radley sat at his cluttered desk marking papers. He glanced up when she strode in and adjusted his glasses.
“I need a new assignment,” she said.
The editor sat back and studied her, a frown forming. “What kind of assignment?”
“I want to cover the war down south.”
His frown curved into a grin. “You want to be a war correspondent?”
“Yes.” She’d come looking for a fight, but maybe that hadn’t been necessary. Could it be this easy?
Radley chuckled. “You’re a fine writer and reporter, but war correspondent? I can’t send a woman to report on the war.”
“Why not?” Erin smacked her hand on his desk. “If I’m a good reporter, why can’t I do a story on the war?”
“The war zone is no place for a woman.”
“I’ve been to the war zone nursing soldiers.”
He raised his shaggy brows. “On the battlefield?”
“Yes, sir. At Gettysburg I was on the battlefield while shells were still flying.”
The editor steepled his fingers as if he was considering her proposal.
“Maybe this could work. You could bring a woman’s perspective to the War of Rebellion.”
Erin nodded, a smile forming.
“On one condition,” he said.
“Name it.”
“I can’t send a woman off alone. You’ll have to take an escort.”
“Who do you have in mind?” The last thing she wanted was someone checking her every move.
“Brody.”
“The clerk?” Erin thought about the mousey young man. He seemed harmless enough. But could he survive living in a war zone? She doubted it. But on the other hand, she couldn’t imagine him giving her any trouble.
Reading her expression, Radley said, “You go with him or you don’t go at all.”
“Well, then,” Erin said. “I guess I’ll have to accept your terms, because I’m going.”
Chapter Thirty-five
Will sat on an upholstered lounge with his leg propped up, while Mrs. Claymore, the lady of the house, served him tea.
“You do look fine today, Captain.” She fussed over him.
Although he enjoyed the comforts the gracious lady and her daughter provided in their lovely home, he’d grown tired of being an invalid. But he was none too anxious to resume his post in the trenches. Doc told him his splint would be removed soon, but he’d have to use crutches for a while. If Petersburg hadn’t been surrounded by Yankees, he would be home right now with his family.
He took a sip of the watery, unsweetened tea and smiled gratefully. This poor woman could do no better. Supplies couldn’t get into the town as long as the Yankees surrounded them. The citizens who hadn’t fled their homes at the start of the siege nearly a year ago were extremely brave. But Will feared Erin had been right, the Yankees would win in the end. All this suffering will have been for nothing.
Mrs. Claymore returned with Doc in tow. He’d allowed Will to practice walking with the crutches he confiscated from a patient who’d developed an infection and died, but Doc warned him he needed to rest his leg as much as possible.
“You’re looking better today,” Doc said.
“I’d feel a lot better if I could get this splint off. My leg itches like hell.” He grimaced. “Pardon me, ma’am.”
The doctor, on the other hand, looked absolutely haggard. “Looks like you could use a furlough yourself, Doc.”
Mrs. Claymore excused herself, leaving the two men alone to talk.
“I could sure enough use one, but there’s no way to get past the trenches. Reckon the end of this damn war would be a blessing for everyone.”
Will shook his head. “I don’t have a good feeling about how things will turn out.”
“Are you talking about the war?” Doc seemed puzzled.
“We can’t win. Why drag it out any longer?”
Doc grinned. “You and I have no say. It’s up to the generals.”
Lowering his voice so Mrs. Claymore couldn’t overhear, Will said, “Erin told me the South will lose.”
Doc lifted a brow. “When did she tell you this?”
“Just before I sent her north. She wanted me to go with her.”
“You couldn’t desert your post. Or that little girl of yours.”
“You know me too well.” Will grunted and shifted his leg to a better position. “Reckon I’ll never see Erin again.”
“Now, don’t be thinking that way. The war will end. You’ll go up north and find her.”
“I don’t know. Maybe she’s already found her way back.”
“Her way back where?”
Will grinned. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
Doc leaned his straight-back chair against the window frame. He sat beside the lounge Will occupied that had been moved from Mrs. Claymore’s sitting room.
“Well...?” Doc prodded.
“Oh, no.” Will shook his head. “I can’t tell you this.”
“But Erin and I were friends. We worked together.”
“If she’d wanted you to know, she would’ve told you.”
Doc groaned and lifted his lanky frame to stand over Will. “Just rest and give that leg a chance to heal, then you can go traipsing off after E
rin.”
After Doc left, Will sank back with despair. He felt that same helplessness as when Anne and Sam had died and Wagner had taken Erin.
Why had he let her go?
****
Will spent the next several days drifting in and out of dreams. He dreamed of horseless carriages speeding down glistening black roadways. Winged machines soaring through the skies. Buildings taller than he could ever imagine. As he observed these wonders, Erin stood beside him.
“See,” she said, “I told you all this was possible.”
He took her into his arms, amazed by the visions around him, but completely captivated by the woman he held. She smiled, and he kissed her, devouring her taste and scent.
He broke from the kiss. “I thought I’d lost you forever.”
“You’ll never lose me,” she said. “I’ll see to that.”
But even as she said it, she started to dissolve in his arms. He couldn’t hold her.
“No, don’t go without me.” His fingers closed on air.
He woke to thudding pain in his leg, his body bathed in sweat.
“There, there, Captain,” Jenny Claymore said. “You’re just having a bad dream.” She wrung out a towel over her basin, then bathed his face in the cool wetness.
Sighing, he relished the relief the towel brought.
“Was it about the war?” she asked.
“Pardon me, ma’am?” He still felt stunned by Erin’s disappearance.
“Your dream. Was it about the war?”
“No. It was about someone I lost.”
“Your wife?”
Will nodded, not wanting to explain any more. While Jenny Claymore continued to wash the sweat from his body, he reflected again on his loss.
If only he had the chance to do things over.
****
After taking the train as far south as they could go, Erin and Nathan Brody hired a carriage to take them to Mason in north-western Virginia. Erin grew impatient at the slow pace of nineteenth century travel. The young clerk, on the other hand, seemed excited to be out of York. Erin wondered why he hadn’t joined the Union Army.
“My three older brothers were killed in the war,” he told her when she asked. “One at Bull Run, the other two at Antietam. Being the youngest, I had to stay home to care for my widowed mother.”
“I’m so sorry,” Erin said. She dropped her gaze. And now, Radley had sent this young man into a war zone to protect her. She’d give her editor a severe tongue lashing when she got back.
The trip to Mason was necessary to locate Will. Most of the fighting on the Eastern front centered at Petersburg, a good ways south. But first, she needed to find out if Will was even there. Nathan was polite and solicitous, deferring to her wishes the entire trip. The young, dark-eyed, chestnut-haired, man would make an excellent husband for some lucky young lady.
****
Although Erin didn’t think she’d ever find her way home again, she felt closer to being home than she had in a long time. The familiar, welcoming faces of Tillie, Isaac, and Jenny made her feel she belonged. The only one missing was Will.
When Amanda raced in with her braids, tied off with pink ribbons, swinging over her shoulders, Erin felt near tears. How she’d missed all of them.
“Miss Erin, where have you been?” Jenny said. “We’ve been so worried.”
“Will sent me to Pennsylvania.” Remembering the quiet young man beside her, she apologized. “This is Mr. Nathan Brody, a clerk at the York Dispatch, where I’m now working.” To Brody she said, “This is Miss Jenny Montgomery, Tillie, Isaac, and Miss Amanda Montgomery.”
Jenny smiled. “It’s Mrs. Kevin Donnelly, now,” she corrected. “I forgot you didn’t know. I’m married to Kevin.”
“Oh, how wonderful.” Erin embraced Jenny. She genuinely liked the young Irishman. He was the perfect match for Will’s independent-minded sister. “When did this happen?”
“Right after Will left to look for you.” She lifted her left hand, proudly displaying the plain gold band adorning her ring finger.
“I’m so happy for the both of you,” Erin said.
“You work for a newspaper?” Jenny pulled Erin toward the parlor. “Tell me all about it.”
The group settled in the parlor.
Tillie reached for Amanda’s hand. “I’ll take Miss Amanda to her room for a nap, then put on some tea.”
Amanda rubbed her eyes and left without protest.
“Do tell.” Jenny eyed Erin. “What do you do at the newspaper?”
“I’m a reporter.”
Jenny clapped her hands. “How exciting! But what are you doing here?”
“We’re heading south to report on the war.” Erin exchanged glances with Brody.
“This is wonderful news,” Jenny said, as Tillie set down the tea tray. “You could find Kevin for me.”
“Why? Where is he, what’s happened?”
“He’s been wounded down in Petersburg. I’d go to him myself but...” She patted her stomach.
Erin’s gaze was drawn to Jenny’s swelled, rounded abdomen. “You mean...?”
“I’m having Kevin’s baby.”
“I’m so happy for you, Jenny. When are you due?”
“In August.”
“That’s wonderful. The war will be over by then. Kevin will be home.”
Jenny and Brody stared at her.
“How do you know the war will be over?” the young man asked.
“Ah...” How would she answer this one?
Jenny frowned. “Do you know something you’re not telling us?”
“No, I’m just saying...the war could be over by then.”
“That’s not what you said,” Brody put in, “you said the war will be over.”
“It was just an expression, is all. But I surely hope it will be over by the time Jenny’s baby arrives.”
Fortunately, they let the matter drop.
“I’m worried about Kevin,” Jenny said. “What if he dies?”
“Don’t say that,” Erin insisted. “We’ll find Kevin and send word to you. If he’s been wounded, maybe he could come home.”
“Oh, that would be wonderful.”
“But now—the reason we’re here—I need to find Will. Do you know where he is?”
“Oh, that’s right. You wouldn’t know. Papa got the charges of desertion dropped. Will’s with Kevin in Petersburg. But we’ve had no recent word from him.”
Relieved he was still alive and not in prison, Erin’s thoughts churned. Will was in Petersburg. This would work perfectly for her, thanks to Mrs. Driscoll’s card reading.
And she would find him.
****
Since they couldn’t continue their journey that day due to the hour, Erin and Nathan accepted the Montgomery’s hospitality for the night. They’d head for Petersburg first thing in the morning.
Erin was escorted to the guest room, while Nathan stayed in Will’s room.
After Brody retired, Erin spent the rest of the evening catching up with Jenny. The young, dark-haired woman was like the younger sister Erin had never had.
“How did you get a job on a paper?” Jenny wanted to know.
“My landlady at the boardinghouse where I was staying told me about the position after I’d told her I was a journalist.”
“But I thought you’d only ever worked as a laundress.” Jenny’s brows knit together in confusion.
“I used to be a journalist...in another life.”
Jenny continued to frown.
“It’s a long story,” Erin said. “It really doesn’t matter now.”
“Well, anyway...how did you get the position?”
“I walked into the editor’s office and asked for a job.”
“And he hired you, just like that?” Jenny’s mouth was agape.
“I had to write a story first.”
Jenny leaned forward eagerly. “What’d you write about?”
Erin laughed at the memory. “I was sent to cove
r a ladies’ tea party. I turned the story into a sentimental piece about the boys in blue in the ladies’ families they were knitting socks for.”
“And now you’re going to Petersburg to cover the war?”
“I insisted on the assignment. I have to find your brother.”
“Oh, I do hope you find him and the two of you can be happy. I have a feeling about you and Will. You’re perfect for him. Much better than Anne was.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Anne was the perfect society wife, as my mother is to Papa. But you have spirit. You’re what Will needs. And I’ve never seen him so frantic and determined to go after you when you’d gone missing.” She clasped her hands. “He was like a knight in shining armor, going to rescue his lady. All he could focus on was finding you, no matter what the cost.”
Jenny’s words chilled Erin to the bone. Mrs. Driscoll had been right. She and Will were meant to be together.
****
Although Doc warned him not to put pressure on his broken leg, Will couldn’t resist stretching his limits every chance he got. Managing the crutches got easier each day. He even found he could assist Mrs. Claymore and her daughter. It felt good to be useful again.
The pain in his leg was gone, replaced by a maddening itch. Doc assured him the splint would be coming off soon.
“But you won’t be running off anywhere at least until the end of the summer. You’ll need the crutches at first, then a cane, and you’ll likely have a limp for a while.”
Will wasn’t discouraged by his own progress, but news from the warfront was another matter. With Petersburg still surrounded, residents ran low on supplies and found it nearly impossible to bring anything into the town. The Yankees were starving them into submission.
His thoughts drifted to Erin’s words the last time he’d seen her. The South will lose. It seemed that prophesy would come true. He saw no way for the Confederacy to win.
****
Will sat in the parlor rolling bandages, his leg propped on a stool when Doc found him hours later.
“I see the ladies put you to work.” Doc took a seat in the rocking chair across from Will.
Smiling, Will said, “It was the least I could do.”
Doc rocked back and forth.
Will scowled. “Now, when is this damned splint coming off?”
“Tomorrow.”
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