Destiny's Temprtress

by Janelle Taylor

“You wouldn’t be trying to fool me again?” he teased.

  She shook his hand. “Don’t be silly. You’ll come shopping with me. I won’t buy anything you don’t approve. Then we’ll go see Reverend Peters together and set the time. Do you think we could find any flowers for me and the church?” she speculated as if deep in thought. “And a ring, Simon! I’ll need a ring. What if they don’t have any in town? Gold and silver were confiscated many times during the war.”

  Simon chuckled. “I’ll take care of the church, preacher, and ring, and the flowers, if I can locate any. You go shopping for a proper dress and some clothes. This is Harvey Franklin. He’ll escort you where you need to go and back here. Buy whatever you need or want.”

  After he handed her a wad of money, she kissed him on the cheek and hurried out with her guard. She knew Simon was afraid to trust her but was too arrogant to believe she could dupe him twice. Besides, he didn’t know that she knew all about him. Her plan was working!

  Harvey stood guard at the front door of every shop she visited. Between stops, he held and carried her packages. At her last stop, she entered the front door and sneaked out the back to visit her old friend and a fierce Rebel, Floyd Weeks, at the stable next door.

  After her return to the hotel, she concealed several purchases under her mattress, then burned the extra boxes. She spread out her new wardrobe to show to Simon when he came to retrieve her for dinner. As she anticipated, Simon appeared at four o’clock to tell her the wedding would take place as soon as she was dressed.

  Shannon blushed and stammered demurely as she told him, “We have to…wait a few days, Simon. I…It’s…We can’t…Oh, heavens,” she fretted nervously and modestly. “It’s my. female time. I’m sorry.”

  Simon chuckled. “We can still marry today, Shannon. I have the adjoining room. In a few days, we can share the marriage bed.”

  “Are you sure you don’t mind, Simon? This is so embarrassing.”

  Simon didn’t mind at all, for it proved that Blane hadn’t left anything undesirable behind. “You get dressed. Peters is waiting for us.”

  Less than an hour later, Shannon became the wife of Simon Travers. They dined in the hotel and drank expensive champagne. She looked beautiful and fragile in her pale blue wedding gown. She kept eyeing the gold band on her finger and smiling at Simon. They made plans to return to Boston the following week. At nine, her feigned exhaustion won her a departure to her room. She knew a guard would be positioned outside her door. She didn’t care, for it was Simon who was in for a big surprise!

  She cursed Blane for deserting her to face this peril and problem alone. There was no time to search for him, even if she had known where to look. She was angry and resentful toward him. She changed and was ready to leave at eleven. Her tight bundle of extra clothes, canteen, and supplies were resting on the floor beside her bed. She waited eagerly for the signal from Floyd and Noah. It came just after midnight. The door into Simon’s room opened and Noah peeked inside, grinning conspiratorially. She hurried to meet him.

  “We took care of him,” her friend whispered, pointing to the unconscious body on the bed in the adjoining room.

  “Are you sure he’ll be out long enough?” she inquired anxiously.

  “He drank that glass of whiskey we set out for him with Doc’s drug in it. Just to be sure, me and Floyd held his nose and forced half the bottom down him. He’ll still be sleeping come noon tomorrow,” he boasted cheerfully. “He never even looked under his bed.”

  “Thank goodness, or you two would be dead. You don’t know how much I appreciate this help.” She hugged each man and placed a kiss on each one’s cheek.

  “About time we helped out and had fun doing it,” Floyd remarked.

  “We should get busy and get you out of here,” Noah advised. “With that guard posted, I sure am glad Travers’s door opens to a different hallway. If he obeys his order and don’t move, he won’t see you escape.”

  Together, they searched the room. Finding the false evidence against Shannon, they burned it in Simon’s fireplace. The two men prepared Simon to appear as if sleeping peacefully, just in case anyone dared to check on a newlywed couple. Shannon took all of Simon’s money and concealed part of it in each of her boots, for she felt this money was truly hers.

  As they worked quietly and secretly, Noah informed her, “This man and that one in the hall are two of the soldiers who burned your home, Miss Shannon. Appears they ain’t real soldiers, just evil men. I hope this dangerous plan of yours works. It sure is a clever one.”

  “You mean it wasn’t Sherman’s men?” she probed.

  “Nope, it was him,” Noah declared, nodding toward Simon. “Looks like he wanted you homeless and helpless. He’s the one who laid the blame on the Union and that Blade fellow.”

  Shannon couldn’t allow the time or emotion to analyze such news. If she had learned the truth about Blane sooner, it might have made a difference, but now she didn’t know where to locate him, and there was always the possibility that he might not have believed all of her incredible revelations, if she had known where to find him. For now, she had done what was necessary for her survival and escape and that of her child. That reminded her of another detail. She took the marriage license, in case she had need of it. Shannon made a hasty check of her room as Noah and Floyd waited patiently. She felt faint when she heard Noah’s next words.

  “As soon as we get you away, we’re going to rescue some other friends. Ever heard of Captain Elisha Carter, the blockade runner? Them Yanks are holding him and part of his crew captive. We been waiting for their wounds to heal enough. It has to be tonight, ’cause Floyd heard they were being sent to prison camp tomorrow.”

  “He’s alive? But they said Eli died from his injuries.”

  Noah shook his head and smiled. “That was his first mate. They exchanged places to protect Captain Carter until he could escape. He’s a valuable man. You know him?” he inquired at her reaction.

  “We were the best of friends…until he was told I betrayed him to the Union. Please tell him I’m innocent. It was…the Blade. He was spying on both of us. Tell Eli to stay clear of Wilmington. The Union is attacking there by land and sea. He’ll never get through.”

  “Why don’t you come with us? You can leave with them, then you won’t have to travel alone. Those men will defend you.”

  “It’s too dangerous, Mister Barnes—for them and for me. I have to get word to the Confederate forces near Columbia.”

  Noah’s keen gaze wandered over Shannon’s face and hair as he absorbed her words. “You’re the Flame, ain’t you, Miss Shannon?”

  She knew it would require too long to explain the truth. Why not let them believe they were assisting and protecting their famous heroine? She smiled heavily. “You can’t tell anyone about me, Noah, Floyd,” she whispered gravely, as if drawing them into her confidence by using their first names. “If anyone discovered the truth, my life and mission would be in jeopardy. You can’t even tell Eli. He or his men could drop a dangerous hint in the wrong ear. There are spies everywhere. Tell them I said I’m heading for Andersonville to free Corry. I’ll make sure our side has a big surprise waiting for Sherman when he crosses into Carolina. I would like you to give Eli something for me. Tell him to read page fifty.”

  Delighted she had kept it, she retrieved Denton’s book and quickly wrote a message across the edge of that page, a message she prayed he would accept: “Eli, perhaps in time you will learn I did not betray you here or at York. I wish you a long and happy life, for you are very dear to me. Stay safe and well. S.G.”

  She gathered her belongings, leaving the blue dress shredded beneath the covers in Simon’s bed. She could not resist taking ink and drawing flames on the villain’s bare chest. When questioned about the strange deed, she vowed that Simon would show no one. As they sneaked out Simon’s door, Noah hung the privacy tag on the doorknob.

  Noah, Shannon, and Floyd slipped out the back door to the hotel and went to th
e stable. There, Shannon mounted the horse supplied by Floyd and stealthily left town. By two in the morning, Elisha and his men had been freed and were making their way toward Charleston. Their courageous helpers returned home without leaving a single trace of their participation or a clue to the escaped prisoners’ destination.

  January 31, 1865 was an extremely cold and windy day in Georgetown, a small city located on the Winyah Bay, fifty-six miles northeast of Charleston. It had been over a month since Shannon had vanished mysteriously and successfully from Georgia. She had decided against spending this painful interlude in Wilmington or Charleston, knowing both would be carefully searched by Simon.

  After leaving Savannah, she had traveled to Hampton. There, she had met with Confederate officers. As the Flame, she had related every fact she had gathered about the Union’s forces and plans. She had told them she was heading for Wilmington to flush out several Federal agents who were supplying information for an imminent assault on the entire Cape Fear River area. She had warned them to prepare for Sherman’s attack on Columbia and a Union siege on New Bern. She had asked them to send warnings to Fort Fisher, which was perilously low on soldiers. She had told them the thwarted Christmas Day assault on Fort Fisher had been a clever diversion to keep them off guard for the second one, which was being planned. The regiments under General Johnston had been delighted by her aid and awed by her courage.

  Johnston had provided Shannon with a pass and an escort as far as Branchville, where his troops were ordered to the defense of the state capitol. He had told her how proud her father, his old friend, would be of her. Shannon had not revealed his death or his Union loyalty. From Branchville to Lake City, Shannon had been passed along from Rebel unit to Rebel unit. At Lake City, she had not continued her alleged journey to Wilmington; she had slyly headed south for Georgetown, to work in a Confederate hospital. She had decided to live there until the war ended and she could straighten out her life and emotions.

  She had located a small and comfortable dwelling near the hospital and had begun her nursing again. For her, this was all she owed either side. For weeks, she had spent her days ministering to the needs of countless and seemingly faceless soldiers. She had spent her nights remembering her mistakes and crying over her losses, when she was not dreaming of Blane. There was no doubt she was pregnant and would be exhibiting that condition by the end of March or April, according to how her body dealt with that burgeoning situation.

  On January 13, General Terry and Federal troops had attacked Fort Fisher; that vital stronghold had fallen to the enemy by the fifteenth. Rebel officer General Bragg had led Hoke’s troops to battle Union forces at New Bern. Union Secretary of War Stanton had visited the conquered Savannah in December and the defeated fort on January 16. Grant had made an appearance there on the twenty-eighth.

  Without Shannon’s awareness, crucial events were about to take place, far away and nearby. President Jefferson Davis had sent a message to President Abraham Lincoln that read, “I am ready to send a commission…to enter into a conference with a view to secure peace to the two countries.” Lincoln had responded, “I have constantly been, am now, and shall continue ready to receive any agent…with a view of securing peace to the people of our common country.” A meeting was set for February 3 in Hampton Roads, Virginia, aboard the steamship River Queen. Blane had been assigned to protect Lincoln’s life during the conference with the Confederate Vice President Stephens.

  On February 1, Sherman left Savannah to begin his rampage on Columbia. On the sixth, President Davis made a stunning revelation, telling his people, “The Commissioners…were informed that nothing less would be accepted than unconditional submission” of the Confederacy. A rally was held in Richmond where Davis verbally injected new fighting spirit and loyal resistance toward the arrogant Union. Two days prior to this, Major Blane Stevens had been wounded and taken to the hospital in Georgetown.

  Shannon casually glanced inside the surgeon’s private room when another wounded man was delivered. For a week, new arrivals had been heavy and frequent, but she refused to overwork herself. Her attention was seized by the fact that this gray-clad man was under guard. As she gathered fresh bandages from the supply closet nearby, she heard the men talking about the possible capture of a Union spy. Looking through a slit in the door, she made a startling discovery. As soon as she regained her poise, she skillfully handled the precarious situation.

  Shannon knew the surgeon was busy at the field hospital a few miles from town. She calmly entered the operating and examining room. As she moved past the unconscious man on the table, she halted and rushed to his side. “Corry!” she shrieked in dismay. “What happened to him? He’s hurt badly. The doctor is away. You must go for him quickly. Corry?” she called to him. “Can you hear me? It’s Shannon.”

  One of the soldiers asked, “Do you know this man?”

  As she pressed a thick cloth to Blane’s head to staunch the flow of blood, she responded, “Of course, I do; he’s my brother! Where did you find him? We’ll have to notify President Davis immediately.”

  “Why?” the other guard inquired.

  “Corry is one of his top agents. He’s supposed to be dogging that beast Sherman. How did he get here? You must fetch the doctor.”

  “You mean he ain’t no Union spy?” the first man queried.

  “Corbett Greenleaf, a Union spy? Are you insane?” she scoffed.

  “But your name is Travers,” the second man reasoned.

  Shannon held up her left hand and wiggled her ring finger in his face. “Because I’m married. If you wish to inspect my papers, you’ll find I am Shannon Greenleaf Travers. This man is my brother, Corry. If you doubt my word, ask President Davis. He is a friend of our family. He’s the one who asked Corry to become an agent.”

  “He had suspicious maps and papers on him, ma’am.”

  “What else would an agent be carrying, captain? If you know what’s good for you, you’ll forward them instantly to General Johnston or to President Davis. Look at him,” she demanded, nodding to Blane. “He can’t complete his mission. Someone will have to replace him. Tell General Johnston the reports are from Greenleaf. He’ll understand and handle everything. If Corry was shot, they must be critical.”

  The surgeon returned and hastily listened to the heated conversation taking place. Naturally he took Shannon’s word and side, and dismissed the guards. He alarmed her when he said Blane’s wounds needed stitching immediately, but he had two emergency operations waiting. He told Shannon she would have to tend her brother. He quickly issued instructions, then left her alone with Blane.

  She did not have time to consider refusing. She anesthetized her love, cleaned the two gaping wounds, then stitched them deftly. After bandaging his right arm and head, she went on to tend the lesser injuries. When she finished, she asked two other nurses to help her get Blane into a bed in the adjoining ward, a bed at the end of the row, where he would have privacy.

  She remained on duty until nine, but Blane revealed no signs of regaining consciousness. She was afraid to leave his side, fearing he would awaken and expose both of them. She finally made herself go home to sleep until five. She was at his side again by six. She checked her handiwork and waited. He looked so pale and vulnerable, so compelling.

  At eight, a patient called her from her vigil. Shannon spooned medicine between his fever-parched lips and changed his blood-soaked fillet. As she worked, she glanced at the last bunk to find Blane stirring and moaning. Several nurses, a doctor, Confederate wounded, and two soldiers were near him. Shannon rushed to his side and dropped to her knees beside his bunk, careful to face the wall. She began to speak to him as if to encourage his awakening, but it was merely to prevent Blane from revealing himself during his weakness and confusion.

  “Corry? Corry, can you hear me? It’s Shannon. You’re hurt badly. Try not to move. You’re going to be fine. I’ll take care of you.”

  Blane forced his eyes open and looked at the vision of lo
veliness who was bending over him, who was touching him with fiery caresses. He tried to clear his head, but it throbbed and whirled. He hurt all over and felt weak as a newborn pup. “Shannon? Where am I? What happened?” He looked at her and listened to her words.

  “Corbett Greenleaf, I could strangle you! You scared me half out of my mind,” she scolded him as a frightened and adoring sister would do. “You almost got yourself killed. Soldiers found you wounded and brought you here to the hospital in Georgetown. This is no way to treat your baby sister. Now that Papa and Temple are gone, you’re all I have. Whatever were you doing in this area? I thought President Davis had assigned you to scout Sherman’s trail. You’re lucky to be alive. They nearly mistook you for a Union spy.”

  The doctor joined them. “I know your brother frightened you badly, Shannon, but he is wounded. Let me have a look at him.” As the surgeon eyed her work, he smiled and remarked, “I couldn’t have done better myself. You should be glad your sister is working here. She’s the one who stitched you up while I was unavailable. She must be awfully talented with sewing. Come along, Shannon, and let Corry sleep and get well. Your brother will be just fine in a week or so.”

  “Shannon?” Blane called out to halt her departure.. “Can I have some water, sis? My throat feels like it’s full of cotton.”

  “Is it all right, doctor?” she inquired.

  “Fine, Shannon. When you finish, I need your help.”

  Shannon fetched fresh water and carried it to Blane. “What are you doing so far from home? Where is Hawke?” he probed with seeming casualness.

  As before, Shannon talked to the top of his head, to the middle of his throat, or to his feather pillow, but never to his eyes. “I left Savannah right after Christmas to avoid those horrid Union soldiers and their villainous leader Sherman. Is that enough water, Corry?”

  “What about Hawke, sis? Where is he?” Blane persisted.