Ella Wood Novellas: Boxed Set

by Michelle Isenhoff

  The woman stood up and moved across the room. In the silence, Jack could hear the rain pounding on the roof. Ms. Siddons returned carrying a tintype of two women and a boy about nine years of age. He recognized one of the women as Ms. Siddons, and the boy, he saw immediately, was Thad.

  “This was taken in Atlanta about a year before Mr. Wilkes joined our company.” She smiled fondly at the image before setting it aside. “Mr. Winters, Jonathan Stanley is a natural actor. He can fit smoothly into any role given to him and no one would ever suspect he isn’t what he seems. Please let your superiors know he’s a natural-born Southerner and that they could find no one better suited to the work of espionage.”

  “Jack!”

  Jack turned his head. The muffled call had come from the hallway.

  “Jack!”

  It was Jeremiah, and he sounded frantic.

  He stood hastily. “Ms. Siddons, on behalf of the Confederate States of America, I thank you sincerely for your time. If you will please excuse me.” She waved him away and he let himself out quickly. The call came a third time. “Upstairs!” he answered.

  Footsteps pounded nearer, and his brother swept around the corner, soaking wet and panicked. “She’s here!” he whisper-yelled. “Your sister. She saw me. She followed me inside!”

  “Emily’s in Savannah?”

  Jeremiah didn’t need to answer. Jack heard her voice calling Jeremiah’s name below.

  Emily couldn’t know about Jeremiah. Not here. Not yet. “Go,” Jack said, giving his brother a push down the hall. “Get out of sight. I’ll handle my sister.”

  Jeremiah dashed down the hall and disappeared. Seconds later, Emily rounded the corner and slammed into Jack’s chest.

  She took a step backward. “Jack! What are you doing here?”

  He feigned surprise and gave her a sardonic smile, slipping easily into the persona he used in her presence. Hopefully for the last time.

  She was too excited to wait for him to speak. “I just spotted Jeremiah! He’s here, Jack! I followed him inside. If we can find him, maybe we can buy him back.” She craned her neck to peer down the empty hall. “Did you see him? He must have passed through here not a minute ago.”

  He simply smiled down on her with that cool, demeaning smirk.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Jack, what’s going on? Did you know he was here? Why aren’t you with your regiment?”

  Jack crossed his arms and gloated. “Well, well. Of all the people I might have stumbled onto in the seedy corridors behind the Savannah Theater, I find my little sister. I am quite interested in hearing what you are doing here, Emily.”

  “I just told you…” Her face turned as red as the carpet as she took his meaning. “William Samuel Jackson! You know perfectly well that your implications are ludicrous. I am in Savannah attending a wedding with Dr. and Mrs. Malone.”

  Jack chuckled at her embarrassment, despising his falsehood but knowing the truth must wait just a while longer.

  She scowled. “And what exactly are you doing here, Jack?” She lunged past him, wrenching open the door he had just exited. He yanked her back into the hallway, but not before she saw Ms. Siddons.

  “At least she’s dressed,” Emily said triumphantly.

  It was Jack’s turn to be embarrassed. “You have no business here, Emily. Go back outside to your friends and your little fairy tale life.”

  “Not until I learn what Jeremiah is doing here.” She thrust her chin out, fully as stubborn as he was. “I’m certain that was him, and I’m equally sure that you know why. Tell me what’s going on.”

  Dr. Malone’s voice called from somewhere nearby. Before Emily could figure out more than she already had, Jack grabbed her arm and propelled her toward the corner. “I’m not obligated to tell you anything.”

  She tried to pull away. “Jack, you’re hurting me!”

  His hand tightened, and he yanked her to his chest. He had to prevent her telling everyone what she had seen. “I recommend that you forget everything you just saw, sister, or it could end very badly for a certain Negro man.”

  Emily grew still, her eyes popping in horror and disbelief. “Jack, you wouldn’t.”

  He thrust her away and straightened his clothing, letting his smile grow cruel.

  At that moment, Darius Johnson rounded the corner and took in the sight of Jack through narrowed eyes. “Miss Preston, is everything all right?”

  Jack masked his surprise. He turned to Emily with a lift of an eyebrow and a smug sneer, getting in one last barb. “In the city with Dr. Malone, are you?”

  She rose to her full height and glared daggers at him. “Yes, I am.”

  The doctor puffed around the corner the next moment. Jack pushed Emily toward him. “Hello, sir. I believe I’ve found what you’re looking for.”

  Dr. Malone regarded him with open astonishment. “Jack, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “Yes, well it’s a good thing I was. It seems my sister has taken to meddling where she doesn’t belong. But I’m sure she’s seen the error of her ways,” he said with a significant emphasis.

  Emily sent one more hate-filled glare his way and turned to the doctor. “I’m sorry, Dr. Malone. I shouldn’t have run off.”

  The doctor glanced between them with bemusement. “We must be on our way or we’ll be late for the reception. Jack,” he said in parting and led Emily around the corner. Darius threw one more unfriendly look in his direction and followed.

  Jack sagged against the wall in relief.

  6

  Jack very nearly went searching hotels for Emily that evening. She needed to know who and what Thad was, but he couldn’t quite force himself to do it. She was in Savannah for a wedding, a guest of the Malones. This was no time to deliver devastating news. Yet he hated himself for the deception, for the things he’d said to her to maintain it. He wanted the secrets to be over.

  His confliction—and the guilt he felt for introducing her to Thad in the first place—nearly tore him apart. He took encouragement at the appearance of Darius Johnson. That had been unexpected, to say the least. It was possible Emily had moved on and that Thad was old news anyway.

  And there was still the matter of Jeremiah.

  In the end, Jack boarded the train and took himself and his brother back to Virginia. He would seek out Emily after his enlistment expired. It was only a matter of days.

  On his return, Jack learned Yorktown was under full siege.

  “Good to see you back, Preston,” Captain Webb told him.

  “Fill me in on what’s happening.”

  “Magruder managed to hold off McClellan’s entire army with a force of 12,000 and a little sleight of hand while he waited for us to come up and reinforce him. We’re now at half McClellan’s strength, and he has graciously continued to overestimate our numbers. He dug siege works instead of initiating a frontal attack, but we can’t hold out forever. In the meantime, you might like to know you’ve made lieutenant.”

  Jack’s eyebrows raised. “Now? My enlistment’s nearly over.”

  “I’m sorry, Preston. You haven’t heard?”

  Jack’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What?”

  “Congress passed the Conscription Act. New recruits are being impressed into a three-year term, and current enlistments have been extended by two years. The entire army is being reorganized.”

  “Two years!” Jack wiped a hand over his face. “I was to be married this month.”

  Webb laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’m terribly sorry, Jack. I really am.”

  Jack took a deep breath and nodded. It was a temporary setback. The war couldn’t possibly last that long. “What are my orders?”

  ***

  Yorktown was only the beginning. Williamsburg, Seven Days, Savage’s Station, Malvern Hill… spring passed in a blur of blood and disillusionment. The Yankees didn’t run at the first sign of battle, and they were relentless in their pursuit of Richmond. The fighting on the Virginia Peninsula went on and on,
day after day, exhausting and deadly.

  Jack was promoted to captain early in June. Advancing on the backs of the dead took some of the shine off his promotion. He hadn’t lost his ideals—he still supported Southern independence wholeheartedly—but he grew increasingly frustrated with the South’s inability to buy a quick peace. He poured out his impatience in long letters to Amy. By midsummer, however, those early flashes of irritation had modulated to dull acceptance.

  There would be no quick end to this war.

  The rapid succession of peninsular battles presented no respite in which he could seek out Emily. Jovie had secured a brief leave soon after General Johnston withdrew from Yorktown. He returned stone-faced with news that Emily had decided to marry Thad after she completed a year of school. A few weeks later, Jack received confirmation of the engagement.

  Jack ground his teeth as he read his mother’s words, regretting his missed opportunity in Savannah. But how could he have foreseen what Congress would do? As much as he hated the ongoing rift, it wasn’t something he wanted to put in a letter unless he had no other choice. Until he saw Emily face-to-face, he would trust in her determination to carry her through the entire school year.

  Jack tucked his mother’s letter into a pocket and rose to turn the potatoes. Thirteen of them had been skewered on a ramrod and propped over the coals with a pair of forked sticks. Foraging had been decent that afternoon. “These will be a welcome addition to pork and beans.”

  Only Jovie and Jeremiah sat close enough to hear him. Jeremiah had waited until darkness fell before starting the cook fire, but the July heat was still too sweltering to sit anywhere near it.

  “They’d be good with some fresh-churned butter,” Jeremiah added.

  Jack grinned. “And a side of Josephine’s fluffy biscuits.”

  “And some turtle soup.”

  “Apple turnovers.”

  “Fresh green beans dripping with bacon grease.”

  Jack’s stomach gave a rumbling twist. It was a game he and his messmates sometimes played, as torturous as it was entertaining. “Aren’t you going to add anything to the cornucopia, Jovie?”

  Jovie shrugged from where he sat carving a new spoon out of a stout stick. “It doesn’t change the menu.”

  The reply was typical of Jovie since his return—distant and disinterested. Jack sat down beside him. “Buck up, old friend. I know you’re disappointed, but she isn’t married yet.”

  “She might as well be.”

  “There’s a big difference between married and engaged. Anything could happen in a year’s time.”

  “While I’m here and she’s in Baltimore? Not likely.”

  “Are you still writing to her?”

  Jovie shook his head and stripped off another long curl of wood.

  “Why not? You still have a fighting chance.”

  Jovie paused. “Jack, she looked right at me, right into my eyes, and told me Thad was her choice. That kind of rejection does something to a man.”

  “But it doesn’t give you leave to take risks on the battlefield. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how reckless you’ve become. I go in each time afraid I’m going to lose you. My sister’s affections are not worth your life.”

  Jovie stood up and moved away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Jack sighed. He wanted to tell Jovie about Thad, to reassure him that he had no intention of letting the man marry his sister, but he was afraid it might make Jovie even more unpredictable. Instead, Jack pulled a second letter from his pocket and reread it by the light of the fire.

  Dear Jack,

  I pray this letter finds you well. I pray for the men in your company. I pray the leaders on both sides will find a peaceable solution and leave off this senseless bloodshed. But mostly, I pray that you’ll come back to me. Now that I’ve found the man I want to fill them, my days and nights are long and hold only the anticipation of your return.

  Don’t worry about me. Father and I are both well, and the crops are in. We’ll have a fine harvest if the fighting stays in the east, though I feel for those whose homes and land are being trampled. You know I don’t agree with this war, but I am so proud of you, Jack, both for your leadership among your men and for the purpose you hold in your heart…

  Jack pulled in a long, heavy breath and let it out slowly. He met his brother’s eyes. “Jeremiah, have you ever loved a woman?”

  Jeremiah studied the cornbread as if his fortune were scrawled across its top. “I have.”

  “It’s a tricky thing, love. It can set a man on top of the world or open an abyss at his feet. And when you’re apart…” He shook his head. “It plays tricks with your head.”

  That was the closest he’d ever come to telling anyone about Amy.

  “I reckon I know something of separation.”

  Jack looked at him more closely. “Jeremiah, is there still someone?” Why had he never thought to ask him before?

  After a long pause, Jeremiah nodded.

  “Who?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Is she in Charleston? At Ella Wood? Is she slave or free?”

  “She’s not free.” Jeremiah flipped the cornbread onto a plate. The bottom was slightly burned. “But nothing can be done right now.”

  “I suppose not,” Jack mused. He, Jovie, Jeremiah—they were all in similar situations. “When this is over, you’ll tell me?”

  Jeremiah nodded.

  Jack couldn’t help but skim over a catalogue of faces in his mind. Which one did Jeremiah love, he wondered. And how long had it been since he’d heard from her? Jeremiah didn’t even have the comfort of letters.

  Jack mentally slapped himself for another oversight. Some brother he was. “Jeremiah, would you like to learn how to read and write?”

  “Wouldn’t do any good. She isn’t literate either.”

  “She’s not the one I’m thinking of.” Jack stood up and gave the potatoes another turn. “General Lee is more ambitious than Johnston. He won’t be content to fend off attacks forever. Rumor has it, he’s planning an initiative. We could be moving into Maryland by the end of summer.”

  Jeremiah stood up straight and looked directly into his eyes.

  Jack grinned. “This is it. Your chance to escape the South for good. You have to learn to write so you can keep in touch with me.”

  But Jeremiah shook his head and bent again to his cooking. “I’m not leaving.”

  Jack could only gape at him. “Why on earth not? We’ve been planning this for months.”

  Jeremiah stuck a knife in the nearest potato to test its doneness. Satisfied, he pulled the ramrod off the fire and propped it against a log. Then he turned to Jack.

  “Because my only brother doesn’t live in the North.”

  ***

  Jack’s prediction turned out to be correct. Early in September, the Army of Northern Virginia entered Maryland and began playing leapfrog with the Union army in a series of bloody skirmishes. By the middle of the month, immediately after a hard fight and the surrender of the Union garrison at Harper’s Ferry, Jack’s division received an urgent summons from General Lee. A major confrontation was developing at Sharpsburg and their presence was requested as soon as possible.

  There was more than a little grumbling as Jack prepared his men for the nineteen-mile march. They were exhausted from the recent fight, their supply line was strung out and their rations reduced, and they’d had no time to cook what little they’d been given. Jack himself was bone weary, but orders were orders. To show his solidarity, he refused a mount and marched with his men. When they stopped for a brief rest, he, like the rest of them, simply laid on the ground and slept with the pack still on his back.

  They marched through the night. Just before dawn, the familiar thunder of artillery jarred the world into wakefulness. A solemn stillness descended over the company as it always did before a major battle. The men breathed deeply of the fresh air and took special note of the colors of the sunrise. For some
of them, this would be their last one.

  As they walked, Jack pulled a letter from his pocket and handed it to Jovie. “If I don’t make it, will you see that my mother gets this?” He kept back another, addressed to Amy.

  Jovie nodded and handed his own envelope to Jack. It was a common practice, this exchange of letters, this drawing on friendships. “You’ve done well, Jack. You’ve proven yourself a true leader.” He gestured to Jack’s horseless stride. “This is exactly why your men love you. Why they follow you. They know you’re one of them.”

  Jack slung an arm around Jovie’s shoulders and regarded his men with affection. These had been his companions for a year and a half, through illness, loss, laughter, and the worst kind of hell. Their numbers had been reduced, but Jack could recall every missing face. They felt like family. He was proud to lead them. “Thanks, Jovie. Take care of yourself out there, you hear?”

  Jovie nodded. “You too.”

  As the sky lightened and the sounds of battle grew closer, the line was ordered to the double quick. Jack made his way forward for instructions, but when they reached the battlefield, they waited in reserve for two hours. The men took advantage of the delay to rest, though the intense sound of fighting on their near flank made sleep impossible. Nerves stretched taut. Prayers stretched heavenward. In some ways, the waiting was worse than the fighting.

  And then word came to march.

  Colonel Gaillard passed on their orders. “We’re to cross these fields and take position southwest of the Dunker Church, along with the 3rd, 7th, and 8th South Carolina. Hood’s men have had a difficult time of it this morning. We’re to relieve them. The Yanks are pushing the line hard. We’re to drive them back. Is this understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” the captains answered in unison.

  “Very well. Get your men in position and hold tight to the regiment on either flank.”

  Jack stepped smartly among his men. “Form ranks!” he called.