Ella Wood Novellas: Boxed Set

by Michelle Isenhoff

  Zeke let a puff of smoke out in a slow, thin stream. “She could be if she got caught, same as you.”

  “Same as me?” Jack paused. “Did she stumble onto one of your smuggling operations, too?”

  “Oh, no. She come to me wid her own plan fully formed. She jus’ need some help carryin’ it out.”

  “Running slaves?” Was he understanding Zeke correctly?

  “Yes, sir. She sent her maid Lizzie up north, along wid Lizzie’s man Ketch and two children between ’em.”

  Jack stared at him in astonishment. “Emily did that?”

  “Sho’ ’nough.” Zeke took another pull at his pipe.

  Jack broke into a chuff of laughter. “Well, I’ll be. When did this change of heart happen?”

  “Oh, I seen it comin’ fo’ some time. Young boy by de name o’ Malachi challenged her some when we visited yo’ Uncle Isaac in Detroit a few years ago. I could see she been thinkin’ on it ever since. Jus’ took some time to bear fruit.”

  Jack shook his head. “Two of us on the same plantation, independent of each other.” He chuckled again. “Did you tell her about me?”

  “No, sir. Dat be yo’ secret to share.”

  “Do you think she’s ready to hear it?”

  “Yes, Mister Jack. I do.”

  Jack was suddenly eager to see her. “Perhaps I should wait until Jeremiah is safely away.”

  “You take him in de army wid you?”

  Jack nodded. “He stayed in Virginia with Jovie.”

  “I thought as much. You gunna send him over de line?”

  “Just as soon as I can.”

  Zeke nodded his approval. “Yo’ sister need to know ’bout him. He her flesh an’ blood, too.”

  “I promise I’ll tell her when the time is right.”

  ***

  Jack cut his furlough short and returned to the front a few days early, but he didn’t head back to camp. Instead, he made his way to the Franklin farm. When the front door opened, he was rewarded with the bright, eager smile of Amelia Franklin. “Jack! I thought you’d gone home.”

  She looked even more beautiful than he remembered, with her golden hair falling loose around her shoulders. His heart thumped hard at the sight of her. “I did, but I decided this is where I’d rather be.” He swung his knapsack to the porch. “I have three days left. Think you can put up with me that long?”

  “Of course! You know you’re always welcome here.”

  She swung the door wide, but he stayed planted on the porch. “Walk with me, Amy.”

  Her color heightened at the nickname. “It’s raining.”

  “Not anymore.”

  She agreed after a quick glance into the yard. “All right. Let me get my cloak and boots.”

  He led her along a ridge of high ground that ran from the barn, along the pasture fence, and followed a windbreak between fallow fields. A bank of clouds hung thick and low, merging the horizon into a smear of gray. Somber puddles collected runoff in the low areas. But Jack hadn’t brought her outside for the view. As much as he liked Mr. Franklin, he wanted their reunion to take place away from his all-seeing eyes.

  He took her hand as they swung along and was encouraged when she didn’t pull away. “I was hoping you’d let me stay. I feel like our visits are always too short, like we can’t get everything said before I’m due back in camp.”

  “We have three whole days. What shall we talk about?”

  The silence extended beyond a natural pause, prompting laughter from them both.

  “I’ll go first,” she said. “In all our discussion about the war and your messmates and everything wrong in the world today, you’ve never told me why you’re fighting. Defending the Confederacy doesn’t seem to align with your convictions.”

  He had a ready answer. “Because South Carolina won’t be dictated to.”

  She peered at him curiously. “That sounds like arrogance.”

  “It’s the simple truth. South Carolina will never consider emancipation just because the North tells her she must. The movement must gain ground internally. I had hoped to work for it through political means, but Washington’s meddling has caused Southerners to dig in their heels. I want to send the North back where it belongs so we can work things out on our own.”

  Amelia cocked her head to one side. “I never considered it from that perspective. I still don’t agree with violence, though.”

  “Maybe peace will yet win out.” He pulled her to a stop at the highest crest of the ridge. From there, they could see some distance in all directions—or they could have on a clear day. “Now I have a question for you.” He tipped her face upward with one finger. “How is it that you get prettier every single time I see you?”

  She smiled. It was the response he had hoped for.

  Her fingers tightened around his. “How did you find things at Ella Wood?”

  “Unchanged, thankfully. Although there were some surprises. My sister, it seems, is finding a will of her own.”

  “Did you speak with her?”

  He shook his head. “She wasn’t home. Perhaps I should have sought her out while I was passing through Charleston. I want her to know me as you’ve come to, Amy.”

  “Why didn’t you stop?”

  “Because I was in a hurry to see you.”

  She smiled again and tugged him back in the direction of the house.

  They were a hundred yards from the door when the sky suddenly broke open and dumped rain on them in buckets. The barn was closer, so they made a dash for it, sloshing through the muddy farmyard and shrieking from the rain’s sharp chill. By the time they reached the open door, they were soaked through.

  “Oh, look at us!” Blond ringlets had escaped Amelia’s hairpins and were plastered to her face. She laughed as she wiped away the muddy droplets spattering her nose, and her blue eyes sparkled up at him with life and humor and intelligence.

  Jack caught his breath. She was the most beautiful, most vivacious woman he’d ever met. Her nearness overpowered him. There in the doorway of the barn, he pulled her to him and pressed his lips to hers.

  Her eyes widened. After the briefest hesitation, she responded. Her mouth was soft, sweet, warm with life. Just like her. Jack’s hand traced the curve of her back and drew her closer still.

  The kiss moved to a delicious conclusion. “Amy, I have thought of nothing but you since the day you bashed me in the head with that shovel.”

  She groaned. “Oh, Jack, don’t remind me.”

  “I’m glad you did. Because if you hadn’t, I probably never would have seen you again. That concussion was the best thing that ever happened to me. Did you know I left my journal here on purpose?”

  “You didn’t!”

  “I had this compulsion to show you who I really was.” He smiled conspiratorially. “And I wanted an excuse to come back.”

  He cupped her chin and dropped another kiss on her upturned lips. “I’ve done some thinking while I’ve been gone. There aren’t two people in all the South who would suit either one of us the way we suit each other. We hold a conviction few others share, and every time I’m with you, I find more and more things to admire. I am completely, irresistibly in love with you, Amy Franklin, and I want to make you my wife. Will you marry me?”

  She gasped. “When?”

  “In April, as soon as my enlistment’s over. Promise me you will.”

  Her eyes sparkled up at him, and her face lit with joy. “Yes, Jack.”

  ***

  It was only a matter of weeks before the army’s winter quarters became as muddy and odorous as the last camp. The temperatures often dipped below freezing, especially at night. The cabin, humorously dubbed “The House That Jack Built” by his messmates, proved dry and warm. But with so many cabins requiring fuel, firewood became a premium. Eventually, the soldiers were walking a mile each evening and carting back a length of wood as long as they could carry. But the men were cheerful for the most part. They might live with lice and mud, foo
d might have grown short, but there was a sense of contentment in the camp, a strong identity with those freedom fighters who had gone before. This was their Valley Forge.

  To break up the dull monotony, books and newspapers were freely shared among the men, and homemade dominoes and a backgammon board were added to their cabin’s game collection. Dawes even carved chess pieces for use on the checkerboard. But poker remained Jack’s favorite social activity, and he found himself invited to various cabins to participate in the frequent contests.

  On a frosty, sparkling afternoon late in February, Jack joined the competition taking place in Will Tyler’s cabin. The cots had been pushed aside and a variety of crates, barrels, and homemade chairs circled an improvised table. The cabin’s interior smelled strongly of unwashed men and whiskey. Jack set a cup of coffee to heat beside the fire and tossed a box of gingersnap cookies he had saved from his mother’s last package onto the table.

  A cheer went up from the men and the sweets were quickly claimed.

  Tyler slung an arm around Jack’s shoulders. “Got some boys from the third brigade with us tonight. Gentlemen, this is Sergeant Preston. Jack, these are George Winfield, John Sloan, and Spade Phillips from the 5th South Carolina. You know the rest.”

  Jack shook hands with the visitors.

  “So you made sergeant, did you, Jack?”

  The question came from Mr. Phillips, whom Jack peered at more carefully. The sharp angles of the man’s face looked familiar.

  The man grinned. “Don’t remember me?”

  “Spade Phillips,” Jack murmured, the memory suddenly clicking into place. “Sure I remember you. We used to play back in Charleston, at Mulligan’s.”

  “Back when I was working the docks. Left town a year ago.”

  “It’s good to see you.” In truth, the man had been the lowest sort of cracker—rough, penniless, and for-hire. Mulligan’s attracted them in droves.

  Tyler highlighted the rules, the game began in earnest, the whiskey flowed, and within a few rounds, the conversation turned quite naturally to the war.

  “This will buy my wife a pretty bonnet when I get home,” one of Tyler’s messmates gloated as he raked in the winnings from a particularly rich hand. “I’ll be sorry to leave y’all, but she’s much pleasanter to cozy up to than your smelly carcasses.”

  The admission prompted return banter and a few racy comments.

  “You figure there’ll really be peace in the spring,” Jack asked, “like they’ve been saying?”

  Someone snorted. “After the action in Tennessee two weeks ago?” Word had drifted down through the ranks of two disastrous defeats along the Mississippi, one at Fort Donelson and the other at Fort Henry.

  “And the Union’s been itching to redeem themselves after the drubbing we gave them at Bull Run.”

  “I don’t care if it’s over or not,” the first speaker said. “I’ve served my time. When my enlistment ends, I’m going home.”

  “I reckon I’ll see it through,” another replied. “Peace or not, we won’t be staying here much longer. The army’s moving out. I’ve been loading ordnance and commissary stores on train cars for two days already.”

  “Any idea where we’re going?”

  The man shrugged. “South. Across the Rappahannock.”

  “I’ve heard rumors that Lincoln’s pushing McClellan to follow Grant’s example here in the east.”

  Someone snorted. “McClellan’s a pussycat. We’ll send him back to Washington soon enough, just as we did to McDowell.”

  “I’ve got a plan to win this war.” Tyler leaned in earnestly, meeting the gaze of each listener. “All we need to do is recruit us a brigade of Virginia women and pass out a few crates of coal shovels. There wouldn’t be a Yankee left standing.”

  The men in Tyler’s mess guffawed loudly, and the three from the 5th South Carolina were filled in on the events of Jack’s autumn mishap. Jack withstood the ribbing stoically.

  “Not so lucky with the ladies, eh, Jack?” Spade Phillips grinned sloppily. He turned to the others, punctuating his words with a dirty index finger. “Now, I could tell you a few stories about Sergeant Preston’s sister. Emily, isn’t it?”

  The men grew quiet and Jack laid down his cards. “How do you know my sister’s name?”

  The man leered. “Oh, we’re good friends.”

  In one swift movement, Jack grabbed the man by the collar and shoved him against the wall. Furnishings scattered in their wake, and the players watched wide-eyed as Jack’s hand closed around Phillips’s throat. “I’ll ask you just once more. How do you know my sister?”

  Phillips gulped. His eyes rolled and the fumes on his breath wafted into Jack’s face. “It was my—my brother, not me.”

  Jack’s hand tightened. “Start talking.”

  “He—he was hired to kidnap your sister a couple years ago. Not to hurt her, mind you,” he added hastily. “Just to stage an opportunity for the fellow who paid him.”

  He gasped for breath as Jack’s fingers closed off his air. “Why?” Jack pressed.

  “The man wanted to appear to be a hero,” Phillips squeaked out. “To come to your sister’s rescue so she wouldn’t refuse his suit. You owed my brother money anyway, so it didn’t even look suspicious.”

  “And were you part of this arrangement?” Jack asked, his voice sharp as flint.

  He chuckled nervously and held up his hands. “It was just a lark. Easy money. No one got hurt.”

  Jack ground his teeth and leaned into the man’s face. “If you ever touch my sister again, I will kill you. Do you understand?”

  Phillips nodded vigorously.

  Jack shoved him roughly to the floor. “What was the name of the man who hired him?”

  “I—I don’t remember,” Phillips choked out, rubbing at his throat.

  Jack kicked him over for good measure. Then, pausing to toss a handful of coins onto the table, he stormed from the cabin. He already knew who had done the hiring. He’d been at the party. He’d helped chase off the attackers. In fact, Jack was the one who’d brought the culprit home and introduced him to Emily.

  His jaw clenched tightly, causing pangs of tension to shoot through his temples. The man who’d done the hiring was none other than his college schoolmate—Jovie’s rival and Emily’s beau—Thaddeus Black.

  5

  Jack brooded into the fireplace of his own cabin. The revelation about Thad had caught him by surprise, but it sounded exactly like something Thad would do to turn a girl’s head, especially when he’d known Jovie had such a head start with her. But that weekend of Emily’s birthday party had been the first time Thad had ever laid eyes on Emily. He must have had the whole event planned out before they even met.

  Why?

  Jack’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. Of course, it could be that Thad simply wanted to one-up his friend. Stealing a girl out from under Jovie’s nose would qualify as Thad’s idea of a good joke. But Thad’s pursuit of Emily had continued well beyond a reasonable amount of time if that had, in fact, been his motivation. Either he had truly fallen for Emily, or his reasons for manipulating her affections had been less than innocent to begin with.

  What did Jack really know about Thaddeus Black? He hailed from Savannah, Georgia, and was one year ahead of him at school. He had a great sense of fun about him, often joining Jack at Mulligan’s when Jovie stayed home to study. He kept his marks up at school. He had regular features and a charming disposition. Jack could see why Emily had been attracted to him. But what were his intentions toward Emily?

  Jovie sat beside him and handed him a cup of coffee. “You haven’t said much. You lose more money?”

  “What?” As Jack emerged from his dark thoughts, he realized the muscles of his face were tensed in a scowl. He ran a hand over them to massage them back into place. “No. Pocket change.”

  Jack turned and considered Jovie. He was a good man—steady, loyal, honest, hardworking. Most women would consider his strong build and dark l
ooks attractive. And he had loved Emily for as long as Jack could remember. It would solve several problems if Emily simply fell for him, too. From the sounds of it, their trip to Baltimore had gotten a little heated, at least for a moment. Perhaps his worries were moot.

  “Jovie, has my sister written to you lately?”

  It was Jovie’s turn to glower. “Not since Baltimore.” He shook his head in frustration. “I shouldn’t have pressured her. I should have held myself in check, but the moment felt so right.” He dropped his chin to his chest. “I’ve scared her off, Jack.”

  Jack understood the temptation of a woman only too well. Hadn’t he taken the same risk with Amy? Fortunately, her response had been far different. His heart rate increased just thinking about those stolen moments in the barn. They hadn’t mentioned their engagement to anyone. Not to Mr. Franklin, not even to Jovie. For now it was their secret, a precious light Jack could hold on to in a dark place. There’d be time enough for sharing later.

  “Are you still writing to her?” Jack asked.

  Jovie nodded.

  “Don’t stop. She’ll come around.”

  She had to. In the meantime, Jack would find out everything he could about Thaddeus Black and his intentions toward his sister.

  ***

  February rolled into March, and Jack became obsessed with obtaining leave. He explained the situation to Captain Webb, and though the man had sympathized, he’d been unable to make any promises. “It’s terrible timing, Jack. McClellan’s bringing an army down to Virginia and we’re moving to meet him. No one’s going home right now.”

  That didn’t stop him from asking daily.

  Marching orders came on March ninth. The war machine was grinding back to life. As Jack slogged through the mud with his men, he brought his final bittersweet moments with Amy forward in his memory and replayed them.

  Despite not having any knowledge of their plans, Mr. Franklin seemed to hold suspicions. He had left them alone by the parlor stove that last night Jack had come calling, and he remained on the back porch till long after the sun set and darkness blanketed his western fields. Jack had drawn Amy close beside him on the sofa, and her sapphire eyes had sparkled with a far different emotion than usual. “Oh, Jack, you’re sure there’s to be more fighting?”