She picked up the everyday dress and opened the buttons. Fortunately, the buttons were on the front. Heavens, there must be twenty of them.
She slipped out of her jeans, pulled off her sweater, and slid the dress over her head. As she tugged it down, then began fastening the buttons, she was a bit stunned. The dress couldn’t have fit better if it had been tailor-made for her.
Villars had said it belonged to her mother. No matter what was going on in his head, he was right about the fit.
She put her own boots back on, zipping them up.
Lifting the volume of skirt material to avoid stepping on it, she went to the free standing mirror in the corner and examined her appearance. The dress had a wide skirt, belling out – not a full hoop skirt, but wide nonetheless. Now she could fit in enough to determine what was going on.
She knew from her training and experience with clients that the most effective treatment technique was forming a therapeutic alliance – creating an environment of trust.
That’s what she would do. She would appear to join in, find out what was going on and well… go from there. She certainly wasn’t getting anywhere by questioning their beliefs.
She picked up a straw hat from the wardrobe, put it on top of her head, and tied the attached white ribbons into a bow on the side of her neck. Going back to the mirror, she adjusted the hat and managed to keep a straight face. Despite feeling ridiculous, she had only one thought.
What would Augustus think of her now?
Chapter 21
Augustus climbed onto the makeshift parapet and looked toward the east. Even after they’d cleared a good-sized area, there there were still too many trees to see the river.
Careful with his footing, he turned and looked back toward the plantation house. He tugged his hat down a bit to shade the heat of the noonday sun.
It had only been a few hours since he’d seen Arabella, but she was all he could think about. It didn’t matter that she wore strange clothes and used odd language. It didn’t even matter that she was addled.
She was the most enchanting woman he’d ever met. She was beautiful. And interesting.
He’d watched the house almost constantly, but he’d seen no sign of her.
Of course, he reminded himself, he’d told her to stay in her room and rest. Even as he’d made the suggestion, he strongly suspected Arabella was going to do whatever she wanted to no matter what he or anyone else said.
He smiled to himself as he climbed down and put both feet safely on the ground.
“Colonel Townsend.” Beau called out to him.
Augustus hurried to where Beau and four other men were digging a trench. Granger, a young man not more than twenty, sat holding his ankle. His face contorted in pain.
Augustus slid into the trench next to Granger. “What happened?”
“I landed wrong.”
“Let me see.” He unlaced Granger’s boot – what was left of the laces – and wiped the dirt from Granger’s ankle. “Does this hurt?” He pressed against the side of his foot.
“No.”
Augustus pressed on the other side. Granger inhaled sharply.
“Guess we found it.”
“Is it broken?”
Augustus ran his hands along the boy’s foot. “Nothing obvious. You might have a fracture. We need to get you inside the house. You’re going to have to stay off of it.” Augustus struggled to keep his voice steady. Another man down. They could only hope that they somehow managed to stay out of the path of the Yankees.
“How long?” Granger winced as Beau helped him stand.
The men, on the other hand, were itching to fight. “At least a week.”
Granger groaned. “I can’t be down Doc. I’m useless to you this way.”
“You can still hold a rifle, can’t you?”
“Yes sir.” Granger straightened. “I can still aim for the blue bellies, too.”
“You’re good then. Let’s get you inside to rest before the fighting starts.” He and Beau began the walk to the house, Granger between them. “Don’t put any weight on it.”
Augustus lifted his eyes heavenward. Please don’t let the fighting come to our doorstep.
Chapter 22
Arabella stood in front of the grandfather clock. She felt the key beneath her blouse and wrapped her fingers around it. The dress felt odd. Despite all the reenactments her grandparents had dragged her to, she’d never been expected to participate and it had never occurred to her to do so.
Someone had fixed the clock. She distinctly remembered a scar between the roman numerals six and seven. They’d cleaned it, too. The face that had looked faded was a little brighter now. They may have even replaced the face.
“It’s a beautiful clock, isn’t it?” Arabella jumped at the voice. She recognized the smooth voice as belonging to Augustus without even turning around.
“It has a large presence.”
He moved around to stand next to the clock putting himself in her life of vision. “That’s an interesting way to put it.”
She shrugged and turned to look up at him. She was immediately reminded how tall he was. She could tell he’d been outside. He smelled of fresh dirt and pine needles with a hint of wood smoke.
The ticking of the clock echoed her heartbeat as she looked into his eyes. The corners of his lips curved into a smile as he reached out and straightened her hat.
Her lips parted and her cheeks flushed as a flurry of emotions rushed over her – a bit of embarrassment that she’d practically fainted in his arms earlier. And a bit of self-consciousness at the hat she’d impulsively tied on her head.
“You look…” He tilted his head to one side. “different.”
She’d wondered how he’d react to her dress. Now she felt a little more ridiculous.
“I like it.” He ran his hand lightly along her jaw, leaned in, and kissed her on the cheek.
Arabella stood still, not sure how to react. Her nerves were sending sparks through her body at the unexpected intimacy.
She completely forgot about how she was dressed and instead focused on him.
He smiled. “I wonder if you would do me a favor.”
She attempted to focus on what he was saying. “Um.” She blinked and focused on what he was saying. “A favor.”
“Yes.” He grinned.
“Sure.” She looked back at him and returned his smile. What manner of trouble was this man determined to get her into? Already she’d put on a costume in order to blend in and gain his trust.
“One of my soldiers, Granger, fell into a hole and fractured his ankle. I need him to stay off his feet. Would you tend to him?”
Arabella cringed inwardly. Tend someone? Before she could form a response, he kept talking.
“His name is Granger and he’s in the parlor.”
“What does he need? I’m not that kind of doctor.”
He scrunched his brow and tilted his head as though her words didn’t compute. “Just bring him some water and whatever else he might need to keep him off his feet.”
She crossed her arms and smiled sweetly. “Of course. I’d be happy to tend your wounded soldier.”
The man obviously didn’t understand sarcasm. “Thank you.” He kissed her on the forehead. “I have to get back outside. We’re a man down and there’s a lot to do.”
She rolled her eyes as he turned and darted out the front door.
Perhaps this blending in thing hadn’t been such a good idea.
Chapter 23
The rain started at Noon and made the temperature bearable. Augustus was knee deep in mud when the courier brought news.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw the men gathering around and waiting for him to share the latest update on the war. As he listened to the emaciated young soldier who’d been given the dubious honor of riding at breakneck speed with news he had to keep in his head, his spirits sank.
Though the news was not unexpected, it was disheartening nonetheless. They were sitting right in the p
ath of the Yankee soldiers marching to Vicksburg. Though there was a campaign by water up the Mississippi River, there was also a convergence of troops by land. And one was headed their way.
It was with a heavy heart that he turned to his men and gave them the news. News that sent them whooping with excitement.
Chapter 24
Arabella lifted her skirts enough that she didn’t trip and went into the parlor. It would have been nice if they had at least left the air conditioning on. Even with the tall French doors thrown open, there was barely a breeze flowing through the house.
She cringed when she saw who must be Granger sitting in the parlor. His clothes were tattered and he was covered in dirt, his bare feet resting on the sofa. He was young and his face was scrunched in obvious pain.
This man needed pain medication. Surely the rules could be broken when someone was injured.
He looked up and his face brightened with hope when he saw her. Any resentment she’d been feeling at being asked to look after him dissipated. “Are you Granger?” When he nodded she continued. “I’m Arabella.”
“You’re an angel.”
She chuckled. “No. But I might can help some with the pain. Have they given you any medication?”
He shook his head.
“Nothing?”
“No ma’am.”
“Not even Tylenol?”
He wore a similar expression that Augustus had worn earlier. As though she were speaking a language they didn’t understand.
“Never mind. Can I sit with you for a moment?”
“I’d be honored.” He pulled his legs up, favoring his ankle.
Thankfully, there was no blood. “I’ll just sit over here in the chair.”
He nodded and stretched his leg back out. “I apologize, Miss, for not standing up.”
She perched on the edge of the chair, careful to keep her skirts down. “No need to apologize. Tell me what happened.”
Chapter 25
The rain had moved out, leaving Augustus and his men soaked. As the rain moved out, the sun returned with a vengeance. Though their clothes dried quickly, they were miserably hot. Augustus felt like he was baking in his uniform. His men seemed to be fairing no better if the sweat rolling down their faces was any indication.
He stood on the parapet trying to decide if they had time to lodge another line of defense. They had trees… they had a trench… He was a doctor first and had never been more aware of that fact than at this moment.
My kingdom for a cannon.
His gaze followed his thoughts toward the house – as they had done a hundred times that day.
What was Arabella doing now?
He tried to ignore the unfounded jealousy he felt toward Granger at getting to spend the day with her.
Would she read to him? Perhaps write a letter for him? It didn’t matter what they did. Even if they did nothing but be in the same room together, Augustus envied the man.
Augustus had never been so enamored of a lady before. What spell had she woven over him?
He smiled to himself. Whatever it was, he liked it. This heady feeling was nothing he’d experienced before.
“Sir.”
Augustus turned to see Beau pointing toward the tree line.
Pointing toward what looked like a row of blue bellies.
Chapter 26
Arabella stared out the front window as everyone ran around her.
“Get down!”
“It’s the Yankees!”
“Load the guns.”
It was too far from the river here, so anyone coming in would have be on foot or on horseback… Or car, of course.
Still. No filming crew. Despite what Augustus said, it had to be one of those realistic reenactments. The ones where people participated just for the experience. No audience.
They called themselves living historians engaged in total immersion events. No audience needed. Jonathan, her grandfather, had gone to a few of these. He called it experimental archaeology. If she remembered correctly, he had gone to one a few years ago at Vicksburg for the days leading up to the fourth of July. He’d been thrilled with the experience – except of course for the blistering July heat. Arabella never quite understood her grandparents’ fascination with antebellum and Civil War history. It was just their thing.
There was really no other explanation. She needed to find her car. It seems she hadn’t chosen the best time to show up here. It was still baffling why Jerry hadn’t said anything to her about it. It was even more confusing why she couldn’t locate him.
“They’re coming.” Someone yelled.
As everyone scrambled around her, Arabella watched as a wall of soldiers in blue approached. They first appeared at the road, then spread out, melding along the tree line. Even knowing they weren’t a real danger, her heart rate tripped up a notch and she couldn’t take her eyes off of them.
Suddenly everything in the house was quiet. She glanced around at the dozen or so people around her, crouched behind the sofa, a tipped over dining table, stack of cotton bales.
Cotton bales? In the house? When had they brought those inside?
“Miss.” A man called out to her. “Miss, you best take cover.”
“Right.” She turned and went to sit on the bottom step of the staircase. This must be the moment they’d all been planning for. It would be interesting to watch this play out.
She gasped at the sound of a cannon ball coming toward them. She recognized it as a cannon ball from the reenactments she’d attended.
Someone screamed.
Though it landed just outside the walls, the crash shook the whole house. Arabella instinctively covered her face with her arms. Bits of debris flew everywhere.
Then the bullets started coming. Arabella stood up and dashed toward the first thing she could find.
The grandfather clock. Using both hands, she shoved it out a foot from the wall – just enough so that she could fit behind it. Its slow steady ticking belied the obvious danger of the situation.
This was a little too realistic for her.
She placed her cheek against the cool wood of the clock and closed her eyes. Something must have gone wrong. Even in reenactments and training exercises, people could get hurt.
Her eyes flew open when someone screamed only a few feet away. A young boy, not more than ten, stumbled on the stairs. Blood gushed from his leg.
She put both hands against the back of the clock and fought the urge to run help him. But she knew better than to put herself in danger. You have to protect yourself if you’re going to help others. Part of the intensive training from the ER. She inhaled deeply three times. There would be time to help him when the shooting stopped. She knelt behind the clock to make herself a smaller target. Just in case.
She focused on the steady ticking of the clock while pushing the sounds of gunfire to the back of her mind. Another cannon ball came toward them. She held her breath, but it landed somewhere else.
In the aftermath of the high pitched cannon ball, she heard what sounded like a Comanche tribe on the warpath outside. The ringing in her ears and the yelling couldn’t disguise the sound of more bullets. She glanced toward the young black man sitting on the stairs.
Real bullets. They were using real bullets. There had to be a law against this sort of thing. But for right now, she would stay put. Take care of yourself first.
She closed her eyes and waited. A door slammed from the back of the house, but all their attention was trained on the front. She wanted to scream at them. Watch your back. The enemy has you flanked.
She was frozen between skepticism that this was real and what she was seeing with her own eyes – an injured child, bullets flying amidst cannon fire, and what she knew of battle tactics.
Her grandparents did this to her. Too many history lessons, museums, and tale of days gone by.
She felt the clock shudder the same time she felt something graze her cheek. She put her fingers against the sting, then brought her
hand down and stared at the blood on her fingers.
Chapter 27
Augustus watched as the cannon ball crashed against the front of the house, spewing mud and debris everywhere. There were a number of people inside. But he couldn’t think about anyone other than Arabella.
He had to get inside. But right now, if he set off across the field, he would be either shot or hit by a cannon ball.
He glanced around at his men. Their clothes may be ragged, but they were strong. They could take down a handful of Yankees.
August held up his rifle. “Charge!” He yelled the word and his men set off across the field with the rebel yell that had been known to freeze the blood of Yankee soldiers. To Augustus, it sounded more like a pack of wild dogs charging across the fields.
As his men raced toward the enemy soldiers, Augustus raced toward the back of the house and crashed through the back door, slamming it against the wall. “Don’t shoot,” he called out. “It’s me. Doc Townsend.”
When he reached the foyer, there were four guns trained on him. Four guns that were quickly lowered when they saw that he was who he said.
“Anyone hurt?” He asked automatically, all the while, his eyes scanning for Arabella.
“Jeremy got hit in the leg.”
“No one else got hit.”
“Good.” Augustus walked through the debris from the cannon fire and swept aside the tattered portieres and watched as his men chased the enemy soldiers using a mixture of their sharpshooting and the eerie sound of their rebel yell.
Confident that they were safe for the moment, he turned back toward the room. Scanned unsuccessfully for Arabella. “Has anyone seen Miss Arabella?”
No answer. A couple of women glanced at him, shook their heads, and focused back on the front of the house. Augustus walked toward the injured boy on the stairs. As he neared him, the boy pointed toward the grandfather clock.
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