by Tamara Gill
She pulled out of Sean’s arms and gently laid the body down on the fresh green seedlings. “His name is Hugh MacLeod. He’s a private in the Queen’s Own Rifles out of Toronto. He was a Volunteer.”
Sean wanted to ask if he’d been her lover, but he couldn’t. “He was a friend of yours.”
Jaclyn stared down at the Volunteer. She was frowning. “No, not really. He was a cousin. Sort of.”
Anger welled up in Sean. “Sort of? You sobbed as if part of you died with him. What game are you playing now?”
She sighed. “Hugh looks very much like my brother, Matt. In my mind it was Matt I imagined dying here, not poor Hugh. I felt the pain of losing Matt, not Hugh.” She looked sharply at Sean, her expression suddenly angry. “He was alone, leaving this place with no one to comfort him. Does it matter what I said to him or why I wept?”
It didn’t matter at all. Sean wanted to tell her that, but he couldn’t find the words to break through the barrier she’d placed around herself. He reached out, cupping her cheek, stroking her skin with his thumb, wiping away tears stained with blood. Then he gently tugged her toward him. “Jaclyn.”
“Oh God, Sean, I had no idea it was so bloody awful!” She reached out and caught his shoulder, holding on as if she needed his strength. She was sobbing again, her words broken and distorted. “I’ve never seen anyone die before. Never. I never imagined it would be like this. There’s so much blood. It’s so ugly.”
He held her while she sobbed and babbled. She voiced the pain and confusion he’d felt for so very long, lancing old wounds that had festered for too many years. He wondered if the dead Hugh had been as comforted by her stories of Fenian defeat as Sean was by her anguished rejection of war. He hoped so. No one should have to die alone and unmourned.
Eventually she sniffed, shuddered and pulled away. Sean let her go. She rubbed her eyes with her knuckles, wiping them dry with her sleeve. Then she looked over at him, sniffed again and smiled shyly. “Thanks.”
He smiled back. “My pleasure.” She would never know how deeply felt that polite social statement was. She was not for him, this strange, defiant woman, but she touched him in a way no other had. He stood and offered his hand to help her rise. She took it and let him lead her over to where Sunny Girl had wandered as she foraged on the sweet green shoots. “Mount up.”
She looked warily at the horse, then back to Sean. “Why?”
He pointed down the field. The armies were no longer in sight and the pop of gunfire had stopped. “I have to report to Colonel O’Neill.”
She stared into the distance. “I guess he’s in Ridgeway by now.” She looked back at Sean, frowning. “What do you have to report to him about?”
“The casualties. I need to arrange burial details and stretcher parties.”
When her eyes darkened and her mouth rounded in a silent oh of remembered pain he cursed himself for being blunt. “Jaclyn...”
She reached up and took a firm grip on the saddle, then put a foot in the stirrup. “Help me up, Sean, or I’ll never get aboard her. There’s a doctor in Ridgeway. His name’s Brewster. He’ll help you.”
Sean mounted behind her. “You are not from around here. How do you know about this Brewster and what he’ll do?”
“Sara and Grandpa Bailey brought me from Fort Erie. Their farm is just over there, but we couldn’t reach it because of the battle. They went back to Ridgeway while I....Anyway, that’s how I know about Doc Brewster.”
It didn’t make much sense to Sean, but he wasn’t going to press her for details. “How did the Baileys bring you? Did they have a carriage?”
“No, they were in their wagon. It has a big flat bed in the back. I sat there and watched everything that was going on. It was pretty bumpy, but kind of fun, you know?”
Sean kicked Sunny Girl into motion. “Do you know where they are now?”
“Grandpa was pretty keen to get to his farm. He was going to find a place to hole up in Ridgeway and wait out the battle.”
That was enough for Sean. He put his heels to the mare’s sides and urged her into a canter.
Jaclyn shrieked and grabbed the mane. “Sean, help! I’m going to fall!”
Sean laughed and wrapped his arm around her waist. She pressed against him. “Don’t worry, you’re safe with me. Relax.”
“Not a hope!” she said, but there was laughter in her voice and exhilaration.
Sean smiled. He’d make a rider of her yet.
***
The Fenian army had reached Ridgeway by the time Sean and Jacqui neared the town. As Sean dismounted Jaclyn shifted in the saddle to watch him. She liked the way he moved, swinging his leg over Sunny Girl’s back and down to the ground in one fluid, sweeping motion. It contrasted absurdly with her stiff, jerky attempt to clamber down.
She staggered a bit when she reached the ground and had to grin at Sean’s sardonic look. “Okay, so I’m a klutz when it comes to horses. It’s a good thing I had you to keep me on. You know, someone should have invented seat belts for saddles a long time ago.”
“Seat belts?”
Contrition swept through Jacqui. Here she was, fooling with the timeline again with her stupid comments. She bit her lip and shrugged. “Just an idea. You see, when I rode the gray horse yesterday I thought I was going to fall off the whole way. But today, when you held me...well, I knew I was safe and I enjoyed myself. And since I can’t ride with you all the time, I thought, well, some sort of belt securing me to the saddle would be an alternative. Not the same, of course, not as nice! But safe...I’m babbling. Pay no attention to me, okay?”
Sean listened to this gush of words with a grave expression. Sunny Girl tugged at the reins and tried to move away. He held her firm, although he seemed to do it automatically. “I never do.”
Jacqui gasped indignantly and a tiny part of her was hurt by his comment, until she took note of the gleam in his vivid blue eyes. “Great. Just what I need. A guy who ignores me.”
Sean laughed. “Now did I say that, Miss Jaclyn?” He tugged at the horse’s bridle and began to walk. Sunny Girl and Jacqui fell into step on either side of him. “Where do you think Bailey has gone?”
“If he came to Ridgeway he probably found a place to hide his wagon and wait for the Volunteers, and you guys, to leave so he could go back to his farm. Then again, he might have turned down the Garrison Road to Fort Erie. How far along he’d have gone I don’t know.”
“What about this doctor you mentioned?”
They’d reached the edge of the Fenian army, which was regrouping. Officers were shouting out names, mustering their men to identify stragglers or casualties. This mundane task did nothing to subdue the high spirits in the ranks. The excitement of accomplishment vibrated through the victorious army, filling Jaclyn with confusion made up of resentment and the desire to participate in the high spirits. Off-guard, she answered Sean’s question in an almost absent-minded way. “Doc Brewster? He lives in Ridgeway. He’s a crusty old guy, but he’ll be willing to help, if he’s asked in the right way.” She shivered, trying to shake herself free of the powerful feelings reverberating around her. “He described the Volunteers’ flight to Ridgeway as being like the Union rout at Bull Run. Were you at Bull Run, Sean?”
“He described? When did you have a chance to speak to this Dr. Brewster, Jaclyn?”
At the sharp question in Sean’s voice, Jaclyn realized exactly what she’d said. “I didn’t.”
“Then how do you know he compared this battle to Bull Run?”
She’d really done it now. Doc Brewster had dined out on his eyewitness description of the Battle of Ridgeway and his participation in the aftermath for years. He liked to compare the battle to the First Bull Run because it proved he’d been at both and firmly established his credibility as a commentator. Besides, it made a nice pithy tag. Jacqui remembered reading his description and being impressed by it. However, attributing the comment to Brewster before he’d even made it was a major gaffe. She’d have to do some scrambling to
convince Sean that he’d misheard her.
“Did I say Brewster? I meant Bailey. Grandpa Bailey said something about Bull Run as he drove off. I didn’t catch all of it, but I think he meant that the Volunteers broke and ran the way the Union broke and ran.” She cocked her head and looked at Sean, wide-eyed. “Were you at Bull Run, Sean?”
“Yes, and Brewster-Bailey was right. We did run, but we regrouped and eventually we won the war. You’re changing the subject, Jaclyn. Why?”
Jacqui shrugged and tilted her chin up. “I don’t like being interrogated.”
Sean stared at her for what seemed an eternity, then he shook his head and said in a low voice, “You may be dressed as a boy, Miss Jaclyn, but you sure do act like a woman.”
“And think more clearly than a man. Remember that, Major O’Dell.”
He laughed and the Fenians nearby stopped to stare. Sean asked one where Colonel O’Neill was in a sharp no nonsense tone that made the soldier salute and point in the direction of a large weathered building. The upper story was pierced by windows, but there were few on the lower. A porch surmounted by a roof and edged by round rails ran the length of the front. A sign identified the place as the Smuggler’s Hole, a drinking establishment cum local inn that O’Neill had prudently made off limits to his soldiers. Jaclyn knew about The Smuggler’s Hole from her research. Men from the tavern had ridden out ahead of the volunteer column and had initially caused the Fenian troops under Colonel Starr to believe that the enemy advancing on him included cavalry.
Jaclyn and Sean found O’Neill outside the Smuggler’s Hole, conferring with his officers. As there were few windows on the ground floor of the building Jacqui figured it would be dim to dark inside the bar, as befitted her image of a seedy drinking establishment in Victorian times.
So far the people of the area had decided to remain inside their houses. Not a bad idea with the Fenians, pumped from their victory, stopping to regroup. Jaclyn knew the Fenians wouldn’t rape and pillage the locals because she’d read the descriptions of the event, but the people of the time wouldn’t have known.
“Why are we hanging around this crossroads in the middle of nowhere,” Colonel Starr was saying as Sean and Jaclyn neared O’Neill’s makeshift command post.
“I want to form up the troops and plan out our next move,” O’Neill said. He usually spoke quietly, in a pleasant tone that made much of his Irish roots. Now his words were clipped and his voice was hard.
He’s tired and stressed out, Jacqui thought, surprised. The documents in the archives described the battle and many focused on what individuals had thought, but those records had been made by Canadians. O’Neill had written a formal report of his actions, but she hadn’t been able to find any more personal references. To see him now, reacting as a man under incredible pressure would, was a fascinating revelation.
“We know they’ve turned west, toward Port Colborne. If we follow them we can finish what we’ve begun!”
“You are assuming that our enemies will continue to run all the way to their base. What happens, Colonel Starr, if they reform when they reach Port Colborne, then turn to defend the town? What happens if they’ve received reinforcements we don’t know about? If I follow your reasoning and march out now, by the time we reached the Canadian column we’ll be nothing more than a rabble ourselves. We won this battle. Let’s not lose it through impatience.”
“I thought you were a cavalry man, not one of these lily-livered infantry fellows who likes to hide behind fortifications,” Starr said contemptuously.
“I have been both, Colonel Starr,” O’Neill said briskly. “And I have learned that breastworks and trenches have their uses, just as cavalry does.”
Sean tied Sunny Girl to the porch rail. His move distracted the little group around O’Neill. Starr turned, glanced at Sean, then glared at Jaclyn. Sean flicked the Colonel a glance before he saluted his commander.
“What do you have to report, Major?”
Jacqui thought she heard relief in O’Neill’s voice, but his expression showed nothing but a hard-won calm.
“There are five Canadians and six of our men among the dead. We also have injured men, Colonel. I have information that one of the local people has a wagon available that we can use. I’m also told there’s a doctor in Ridgeway. Once I’ve located him I’ll be organizing detachments to aid the wounded under his direction. We can use the wagon to transport those of our wounded who cannot walk.”
O’Neill frowned. “How did...” He looked beyond Sean and saw Jaclyn. “Your prisoner. How the devil did he get here? I thought we left him at Newbigging’s orchard.”
Sean glanced at Jacqui, then looked back at O’Neill. “I found him on the battlefield, sir. He was beside a friend, one of the Canadian dead.”
The mood changed, softened, turned inward as each man in the group around O’Neill empathized with Jaclyn and the pain she was feeling. The understanding was unspoken, and unexpected, but very real. It made her one of them, part of a fraternity that knew no nationality.
“I see.” O’Neill’s voice had returned to the quiet, melodic tones of yesterday. “My condolences, Jack.”
Jacqui swallowed sudden irrational tears. Wouldn’t that be just great, weeping in front of this bunch of macho guys. It would do her disguise no end of good. “Thank you, sir.”
O’Neill nodded, then glanced at Canty. “Can you confirm Major O’Dell’s information, Major?”
“There is a Dr. Brewster who lives in this area, Colonel, but I doubt he would have remained...”
They were back to business as usual. The switch from empathetic friend to coldhearted warrior made Jacqui dizzy. “He’s just waiting for you to reassure him that his place won’t be trashed, Colonel O’Neill. Let every one in town know they’ll be safe and they will come out to help you.”
O’Neill frowned at her.
Sean said, “He hasn’t been wrong yet, Colonel.”
O’Neill stared at Sean and Jaclyn for a long moment, then he glanced at Starr, one brow raised. There was a challenge in his expression. “Very well, gentlemen. We will rest here until the heat of the day is over then we will move out.” He strode over to the porch of the Smuggler’s Hole then swung up onto the top of the balustrade so he was above the men and easily seen. “Men of the Fenian Army!”
The noise made by the massed soldiers died off as the Fenians waited to hear what their commander said.
“You have done well this morning!”
There was a cheer that turned into a roar.
O’Neill waited until it had died down before he said, “Our enemy fought hard, but we defeated them. You defeated them!” Another cheer went up. “Now we need to rest and regroup. Remember, we are here to liberate the citizens of this good land, not to harm them. Take food and water only. There is to be no plundering of the houses in this town, or injury to the people. Now fall out.” The Fenians cheered again. The army broke apart into a series of small groups.
O’Neill had churned his motley army up, using the elation of their victory to catch their attention and to bind them together, then had gone on to tell them what could be and what was not to be. That showed pretty good leadership skills. Jacqui was impressed.
The door to one of the houses opened and a man appeared on the stoop. Sean looked down at Jaclyn. “Doc Brewster?”
He was younger than Jaclyn expected. “Could be.”
“I heard what you said,” the man shouted to O’Neill, who was still standing on the railing. “Do you mean it?”
“We are here to help the people of this colony, not to harm you! I have tried to make that clear since we landed yesterday.”
The sun glinted on the man’s dark hair as he thought about O’Neill’s comment. Then he closed his front door and stepped off his porch.
O’Neill jumped down off the railing and returned to his officers.
“My name is Brewster,” the man said when he reached them. “I saw the Volunteers charging down the hill a while
back. It looked like Bull Run.”
Jaclyn sensed Sean stiffening beside her. She closed her eyes, wishing, not for the first time, that she could take back her careless, heedless words.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“You must be pleased with yourself,” Brewster was saying. He didn’t sound too impressed as he added, “But that’s neither here nor there. You will have left dead and wounded behind you.”
“We did. More of your people than ours.”
Brewster’s expression hardened. “I’m not surprised. I’m told your men are all veterans of the War Between the States. These were untried boys.”
“That column was not made up of untried boys!” Colonel Starr said. “We saw the red coats. Those were British regulars we fought.”
“Those men in the red uniforms are the Thirteenth Battalion of militia out of Hamilton. They are Volunteers and many of them are no older than my neighbor’s boy, Henry. He’s just turned six and ten.”
“They fought well,” O’Neill said. His voice was even, but with that edge of strain Jacqui had noticed earlier.
Brewster, who appeared to be not in the least intimidated by the presence of an enemy army, shot O’Neill a derisive look. “Of course they did! They were defending their homeland. What were you expecting? We’ve no love of the Union here.”
“We are not fighting for the Union. We are here to liberate you from the yoke of British—”
Brewster cut O’Neill off with a snort of laughter. Tact was clearly not one of his stronger skills. “Now don’t go off on that tack. I’ve already heard it. I’m a doctor—”
“I know,” O’Neill said.
That drew Brewster up short. He frowned suspiciously at O’Neill.
From the expression on his face, Jacqui guessed that O’Neill had enjoyed one-upping the outspoken Canadian.
He continued smoothly, “We would appreciate your aid, Dr. Brewster. Are you willing to give it?”
“If I wasn’t I’d still be locked in my house, defending my property against any of your men who didn’t take your warning to heart.”