by Tara Johnson
“Someone we know?”
The steward shook his head. “Leastwise not by me. Not hospital staff. Can you come?”
“Of course.”
Joshua had followed the solemn man outside but felt all the blood drain from his face when he rolled the body over to discover the dead man was Edmund Warwick. Multiple stab wounds covered his bloody torso. One side of his head bore the telltale marks of a crushing blow.
Ambushed. And Joshua had known then . . . the Knights had discovered, or at least suspected, Edmund’s plan to take them down.
Had Edmund been on his way to warn Joshua? And if the Knights knew of Edmund’s traitorous turn, would Joshua and his loved ones be next?
His stomach soured as he recalled the mysterious man who had approached Cadence the night of the benefit. He had warned her she aligned herself with danger. It had been more than a warning. It was a threat.
Joshua pinched the bridge of his nose. “Things cannot remain as they are. The Union is asking me to travel yet again to skirmish points and act as a field surgeon.” A headache loomed in the back of his skull. “I cannot leave the children and Miriam for so long unprotected. Nor would I ask you to guard them and impose such a burden on you.”
“I would do it for you.”
“I know you would, but even the best of bodyguards need sleep. You can’t be on alert all the time for weeks on end.” He rubbed his eyes. “That’s the problem. I never know how long I’ll be gone when the generals call. It might be for a few weeks. It might be for several months or more.”
Zeke ran his fingers through his black curls. “What other options do you have?”
He ground his jaw. “Only one that I can see.”
“Which is?”
“I have to take the children with me.”
Cadence inhaled a fortifying breath and lifted her hand to knock on Joshua’s door, squinting against the bright sunshine and sultry July air.
When she’d told Father her decision to stop singing at benefits and rallies, he’d nearly been bowled over. He’d pleaded, begged, and even threatened to forbid her to step foot in a hospital again.
She’d almost broken under his barrage but kept her voice soft, her tone gentle. “You must do what you think is best, Father, but I cannot sing for these Washington events anymore. I’m doing them for the wrong reasons. And the exhaustion is more than I can bear.”
He’d just stared before turning on his heel to leave the room. The look of disappointment stung like a shard of glass embedded in her flesh, but alone in the parlor, she’d expelled a cleansing sigh. She’d done it. Her mind already felt more rested, despite the turmoil Father’s displeasure had stirred in her heart.
For three days she’d done little more than read her Bible, tend to Rose’s grave, and sleep, but the cluster of pink roses and creamy daisies on her dresser was a constant reminder of the person she had yet to thank.
She had attempted to find Joshua at Judiciary Square Hospital that morning. No one had seen him all day, so she’d visited the men, lent a hand to the nurses, and helped feed patients their noon meal. When it was clear he wasn’t going to appear, she’d excused herself, hired a hack, and ventured the long trek to the far side of the capital city. Though the neighborhood he and the children lived in was comfortable, squalid streets lay just beyond the next block. The odor of rotting garbage drifted through the air.
She waited, wishing she could lift the thick snood away from her neck and cool her skin. Sweat trickled down her back under her corset as she rapped the door again and listened. She knew he was home, for she could hear the low rumble of his voice and then a higher-pitched one respond. She knocked harder.
Conversation ceased. Footfalls crossed to the door and it creaked open. Joshua stood before her, yet it was not him. Shadows rimmed his eyes. Golden-brown stubble covered his jaw. His hair was mussed as if he’d spent all morning digging his fingers through it.
“Cadence.”
“Forgive me for calling uninvited. I stopped by the hospital, but you weren’t there. I feared something may have happened again, so . . .”
The corners of his mouth tilted. “Nurse Piper to the rescue?”
Heat crept under her skin. “Something of that nature. I also wanted to thank you for the beautiful flowers.” She swallowed. “And the c-c-c-card.” She closed her eyes. She didn’t want to stutter like a simpleton before this man.
It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks. You are loved.
She blew out a small breath. “It—it changed my life.”
His brows rose. “I would like to hear. Please, come in.”
“Am I welcome? I mean, do you think it no longer dangerous?”
As he shut the door behind her, she could hear Miriam fussing. “. . . craziest thing I’ve heard in all my days. Taking them babies? Ain’t got the brains God gave a goose.”
When she saw Cadence enter, her dark eyes rounded. “Miss Piper! Law, but it’s good to see you again.”
“It’s good to see you too.” Cadence embraced the matronly woman, but she couldn’t miss the tension filling the room. It was as tight as taffy.
“I’m sorry to have interrupted. If I need to leave, I’ll be—”
Joshua held up his hand. “No. Please stay.”
Miriam shot him a withering glare. “Mm-hmm. I’m sure you do want her to stay, so I’ll hush up, but if I said it once, I’ll say it again. You’re crazy if you think we’re going with you!”
Cadence looked between the two of them. Joshua was rubbing his temple, and Miriam glowered, looking like a bulldog who refused to give up a bone.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong.” The older woman scowled. “This man thinks to drag them precious, innocent babies with him into war and wants me to go along, too, to wash all them Union boys’ drawers. As if I ain’t got enough to do in my old age!”
Shock rendered Cadence mute. Her gaze flew to Joshua. His eyes were closed and he spoke slowly as if trying to be patient. “Miriam, we’ve been through this. I would not be giving the children bayonets. They would be safely away from the fighting.”
Propping her hands on her ample hips, she glared. “Oh, really? And where would we be?”
He smiled sheepishly, though it resembled more of a wince. “At a safe house near Bristoe Station.”
She threw her hands up. “Land o’ Goshen! Who living there? Yankees or Confederates? You even know? Could be anybody!” Stomping into the kitchen, she muttered, her temper rising with every step. “Done lost his mind . . .”
Silence descended.
Finally Joshua spoke. “My apologies. Miriam can be dramatic.”
“Really? I thought she was rather calm.”
He chuckled.
“So you’re truly considering bringing the children with you when you work in the field hospital?”
“You think it a bad idea?”
She paused. She had no right to tell him what to do with his own children, but . . .
“Miss Piper!”
Penelope squealed and ran down the hall, launching herself against Cadence and wrapping her arms around her waist.
Cadence laughed and squeezed the precious girl, smiling down into her dancing eyes and freckled face.
“Penelope.” Joshua frowned. “How many times have I told you? Ladies do not yell, run, or throw themselves at people they are happy to see.”
“Sorry.”
Cadence tapped her nose. “How is my favorite princess?”
“I’m fine. Etta is taking a nap, so James and I are painting. Would you like to come see?”
“I would love to.”
Joshua tugged her braids. “Hold on, missy. I need to speak with Miss Piper for a moment in private.”
Penelope’s lower lip stuck out. “Okay. I’ll go tell James she’s here. He’ll be so excited.” She bounced on her tiptoes. “Can you read us a story?”
She smoothed the girl’s hair and glanced toward Joshua. �
��If it’s all right with your papa.”
He nodded.
Penelope squealed and ran to tell her brother. Joshua called after her retreating form. “Young ladies don’t run, Penelope!”
Cadence smiled. “She’s excited, is all.”
He offered a tired smile and motioned toward his library. “If you don’t mind, what I have to say needs no listening ears.”
He led her into the small room and closed the door behind him. The musty aroma of books and leather filled her nostrils. Papers and journals lay scattered across his desk here as well. Order was not his strong suit.
She turned to face him and once again noted the weariness lining his face. “What’s wrong?”
“Someone is after my family.”
A cold, sick sensation slithered down her stomach. “Who?”
“I have enemies, as you well know. It was the man I hired to guard the children who first noticed someone watching the house while I was gone. In fact, you’ve seen him before in Richmond.” A wry smile tugged his mouth. “He often helps me in freeing slave children. His name is Zeke.”
Cadence blinked, trying to absorb the information.
“There is a group of men called the Knights of the Golden Circle. Evil, power-hungry men who hate the Union and hate those who support abolition even more. I think they are behind the threat you received the night of the benefit.”
She reached to steady herself. The night of the benefit. The warning.
“The Knights see all.”
Her fingers dug into the upholstery of the wingback chair at her side.
“They are coming for me, Cadence. And now, with the Union summoning me away once again, I cannot leave my family here alone without protection.”
“Your friend cannot protect them while you’re gone?”
“He’s only one man. He cannot guard them all day and all night. And there is no one else I trust.”
Cadence watched the emotions dance across his face. Fear had burrowed deep inside him, gnawing away his normal control. “And you feel the only option is to take them with you.”
He paced the length of the room. “I know it sounds crazy. Perhaps it is, but I heard regiments are allowed to bring up to four laundresses with them, something the War Department devised to help improve sanitation. The laundresses are usually wives of the soldiers and bring their children along as well. If I offered to bring a laundress for the surgeons to use, the War Department would likely approve such a measure and even allow the children to come. Miriam has flatly refused.” He scrubbed his face. “I can’t say I blame her. No woman in her right mind wants to launder bloody bandages and linen while cannons shriek nearby.”
Cadence remained silent. She found nursing to be rewarding, but the laundering of soiled linens . . . remarkably less so. She could not cast fault with Miriam. Especially when the task involved watching three young children in the heart of the conflict.
“There are other options.” Joshua paced rapidly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Less desirable in some ways but safer in others.”
“What options?”
He sighed. “The safe house I mentioned near Bristoe Station. I have friends there. Friends who would shelter and protect them. At least there they would be away from the fighting.”
“Have you told Miriam about the man watching the house?”
He winced. “Absolutely not. She and the children can’t know. Miriam is as skittish as a flea. If she knew, she’d go into vapors. And I don’t want the children thinking there is some horrid man waiting to kidnap them. That’s a fear no child should live with. I’ll tell them if I think I must, but for now, I’d rather they live in innocence.”
He fell into a chair and dropped his head into his hands. “Please pray. I don’t know how to protect them.”
Awareness washed through her. “Just do the next thing.” This was something she could do. There would be no acclaim, no glory, but it would be sacrificial. The opposite of how she’d been living. Service based on pure motives. Giving to those who had nothing to give in return.
“I’ll do it.”
His head snapped up. “What?”
“I’ll be your laundress. I’ll care for the children . . . whatever you need me to do so they are safe and you are at ease.”
He rose slowly, his jaw slack. “You would do that for them?”
“Of course.” She smiled gently. “After how you’ve helped me, it’s the least I can do.”
He frowned. “I don’t understand.”
She twisted her fingers together. “The flowers you sent were beautiful, but the note changed my life.” She lifted her face to his. “The verses, more importantly.”
His gaze roved over her. “Tell me.”
Breathing slowly, she fought to find the words she longed to say. “Ever since I was a little girl, speaking has been difficult for me. I stammer and stutter. When I was a child, it was especially dreadful.”
His face registered surprise. “I’ve never noticed such a thing.” Understanding lit his eyes as his expression went slack. “The day I caught you searching for chloroform in my tent . . .”
“Yes. I work hard to erase it as much as possible. Mother and Father insisted I visit a phrenologist when I was twelve. He declared I would never outgrow the problem because I bore the mark of an intellectual deformity of some kind.” Her throat clogged as the horrid words were given voice once again. “He said my parents should not expect much from me.”
Joshua rubbed his thumb against his clenched fist. “He was a fool.”
She sighed. “Looking back, I believe he was in error, but from a child’s point of view, I believed him to speak the truth. And I sensed a shift in how my father treated me after that day. He was still kind. Indulgent even, but—” she blinked away the burning sensation in her eyes—“something was different.”
“And your mother?”
Cadence smiled. “Mother didn’t change. Nothing ever persuaded her once her mind was fixed.”
“She sounds like her daughter.”
Cadence bit her lip. “I’d like to think so. She told me to pay the phrenologist no mind, but the words needled. So instead of forgetting about him, I set out to prove him wrong. I did everything I could to erase my stutter. I excelled at my studies . . . all of it to prove my worth.” Her throat swelled. “For so long I thought it was to prove it to myself, but I think it was even more to prove it to my father.”
“Cadence.” His voice was low and strained. “Is that why you didn’t want to speak on the night of the benefit?”
“Yes. When I’m nervous, the problem roars back to life with a vengeance. And the day in your tent when you thought I was stealing . . .”
He blanched and looked away. Her heart sank. He regretted kissing her. Must she always fall short?
“I was an unforgivable brute that day.”
“I couldn’t spit out the words because I was so flummoxed.” She pushed away the memories of his fervent touch and murmured words of affection. He hadn’t meant it. She swallowed down the lump in her throat.
“The verses you wrote on the card helped me see I’ve been living for all the wrong things. I think, perhaps, even wanting to become a nurse was in part a way to gain Father’s approval.” His brows dipped low, but she continued. “You helped me see that approval and love are not the same thing. God has shown me I am loved already by him. I need not earn it.” She smiled into his eyes. “Thank you, Joshua.”
He said nothing for a long moment. A muscle worked in his throat as he stared at the floor. Finally he lifted his eyes and locked his gaze on hers. “I was wrong, you know. There is not one vain, shallow, or superficial bone in your body.”
His fingers grazed hers. She sucked in a breath as he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her fingers. Ripples of pleasure skimmed up her arm.
“Let me help you. I’ve been to a battlefield, if you remember.” She couldn’t suppress her teasing tone. “I can do it. Let me help you k
eep your children safe.”
He studied her for a long moment. “And what would motivate you to do such a thing?”
“Love. Love for those children. Love for God. No other reasons, I assure you.”
He released her hand, his eyes shadowed. Had she misspoken somehow?
Finally he nodded. “Thank you. Only if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
He expelled a thick breath and laughed lightly. “Now how do I tell the children they are going with me to war?”
“Might I suggest making it sound like a grand adventure? Frame it as if they are the heroes in their very own storybook.”
Her heart caught when he grinned. “Something tells me they will care very little about where they are going, once they hear you will be going as well.” He turned toward the door. “I’ll call them and we can tell them together.”
“You know what this means, don’t you, Dr. Ivy?”
He turned back and lifted his brows in question.
She offered an impish smile. “This means we’ll be working together yet again.”
He winked and she felt her knees weaken.
“I shall look forward to the challenge.”
Chapter 23
AUGUST 1862
MANASSAS, VIRGINIA
The barrage of cannon fire shook the ground beneath Joshua as the frame of the canvas-covered surgical tent rattled like a coin in a tin cup. He blinked away the sweat stinging his eyes to focus on extracting the bullet from the wounded soldier’s arm.
“Got it.” His sticky, blood-soaked fingers worked the clamps to drop the round piece of lead into the waiting bowl. He turned, handed the instruments to the steward, and barked, “Wash those instruments immediately!”
The steward shrugged and scurried away to finish the task. Shells whistled overhead. The explosion barely registered as Joshua hastened to sew the soldier back together. Ambulance runners were waiting at the tent flaps. Men screamed and wailed in pain. One man was carried to another surgeon in the large tent. Half of the soldier’s face was missing. How was he even still alive?
This was far worse than Oak Ridge. His thoughts traveled to Bristoe Station. With the camp bulging at the seams, he’d had little choice but to turn to his friends for help. Elderly siblings Moxley Morris and Maisey Honeycutt had eagerly offered to house Cadence and the children until his duties were finished. Had he placed them far enough away from the fighting? Were they safe?