When You Love a Scotsman

by Hannah Howell

  James grunted in agreement and waved at a few men as they rode through the guard posts. Matthew also took time to greet a few. It was comforting to find the guard alert. He could not shake the feeling that they were headed for a hard fight.

  His thoughts veered to Abigail and he wondered if he should warn her. That would be against orders but he was becoming more and more uncomfortable about giving her no warning. He did not like leaving her unsuspecting and unready. He would feel better if he knew she was at least keeping her weapon close to hand.

  When they reached the house the major now claimed as his headquarters, Matthew and James went in to make their report. As they entered the office, Matthew studied the man behind the desk. With his head bent over some papers, it was all too evident that the man was beginning to lose his hair. Matthew hoped that was the man’s only loss to the war. Major Cummings was a good man, a fine officer who was neither too harsh nor too kind. He was also an excellent strategist.

  “Are the Rebs still there?” Major Cummings asked as he looked up from the paper.

  “Aye, sir,” Matthew replied. “They have added a few more men but the constant trail of men coming in has ended. We just cannae figure out what they plan.”

  “But they have enough to attack?”

  “They do and they also have a cannon.”

  “Damn. Well, we have three so we ought to be able to counter that. How many men?”

  “Hard to say, sir,” said James. “Not easy to count them, but I would say they have enough.”

  “MacEnroy?”

  “Aye, sir. There are at least several companies in the camp. I even recognized one or two men as ones who led a couple of skirmishes against us.”

  Major Cummings rubbed his hands over his face. “I am weary of skirmishes. Little clashes where we kill each other, farms and towns get destroyed, and too many who are not even soldiers end up dying. God alone knows what is going to be left of the people who lived in these hills.”

  “Too few, that’s certain, sir,” muttered James.

  “Well, we’ll keep a watch on them. They may not be interested in us but there is no way to be sure of that. One cannon doesn’t imply such an engagement nor does our size or theirs. That doesn’t mean they won’t come looking for some supplies. Or, hell, some women. Keep the watch on and alert. I have been getting rumors that a big move is planned on the South so they may be gathering to go and fight in that. So, all we can do is keep alert.”

  “Aye, sir.” Matthew saluted and walked out, James right behind him.

  “I checked and all four of us have about a month left before we would have to sign up again and decide if we are staying in or not,” said James.

  “Are ye staying in?”

  “I don’t rightly know. Damn sick of the killing. Too much of it is senseless shooting of farmers and town folk who are just trying to survive and hold on to their land. A lot of the army is conscripts now. There are just too many times when I have to stop myself from just turning my horse east and riding on home. I damn sure don’t want to be in the South at this time of year.”

  Matthew nodded slowly. “I feel the same. I just dinnae have to ride so far to get home. But it weighs on me what is being done in these hills.”

  “Is your family in danger?”

  “Nay more than anyone else. My brother Iain just sent word that he is a father to another, a brother for young Ned. He mentioned a few visitors who were sent on their way. The town is gone like so many others round here, and he doubts many of the ones who fled will come back so getting supplies is a chore and often dangerous.”

  “As it is everywhere.”

  “Aye, save maybe where ye come from. I doubt Maine gets many Rebs and Night Riders. As the major hinted, appears the war is headed south.”

  James shook his head. “This is all going to leave a scar that’ll be a long time in healing.”

  “I suspicion a lot of countries have one, but ye are right. At this moment, I just want to wash the stink of horse off, eat something, and then go to see if Abbie wants to go walking.”

  “So, you and little Abbie . . .”

  Hearing the amusement in the man’s voice, Matthew nudged his horse until he was a few feet ahead of James. The man hooted with laughter and Matthew fought the urge to hit him. Instead he focused on what he needed to do to get to Abbie before it got too late to go out for a walk.

  * * *

  Abbie sighed when Julia came in and sat down beside her. The woman did not even try to hide her pregnancy now and a few of the women openly snubbed her despite the ring on her finger. For a while Julia had avoided all of them but now she came around to share a meal and talk to Abbie.

  “Robert said the officers are expecting trouble soon,” Julia said quietly.

  “Well, I expect we will be told what to do to remain as safe as possible.”

  “I hope so. The lieutenant has not said anything to you?”

  “He asked if I keep my rifle close but nothing else. I asked Mrs. Beaton where she had put it and, despite her many complaints, it is now tucked in a corner in whatever room I am in.”

  Julia looked at the rifle set against the wall in a corner near the window. “You can shoot that?”

  “I can, and Matthew must think me competent or he would not ask me to keep it close in case we face any of this trouble no one is warning us about.”

  Julia shook her head. “Men don’t like worrying women about things. Silly because, if we are warned about things, we would keep a better watch, don’t you think?”

  “I do but, obviously, the officers have decided otherwise.”

  “I often wonder how a man gets to be an officer.”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Do you ever have, well, feelings about something about to happen? Something bad or good?”

  “Not really. Nothing strange. Why?”

  “I am not sure, but I have a very bad feeling about what is going to happen.”

  “Not sure what you can do about such feelings. Do you run? If so, how do you know which way to go? Or do you run out of the house to escape an unknown fear only to get run over by a wagon? You are probably just worried about Robert.”

  Julia smiled a little. “Well, yes, I am. I am expecting his child. I have the ring and the paper but I would much rather have the man, too.”

  “Of course you would.” Abigail patted Julia on the arm. “You married a soldier, dear. I suspect worry is a hazard of that.”

  “Not so sure I like that,” Julia muttered.

  “You left yourself little choice and I think that alone says you chose right.”

  “Maybe.” Julia yawned and hastily covered her mouth. “I have to go and lie down. I am always so tired lately.”

  “That is because you are carrying a child. Lots of rest is important.”

  “I suppose. With all the food I eat and the rest I need, I begin to feel like a pig being readied for the slaughter.”

  Abigail laughed. “That is not a pleasant thought. Go on, go have a rest.”

  Watching Julia walk off, Abbie fought down her worry over the woman. Julia was a deeply sensitive woman who loved this fellow Robert. If anything happened to the young man, she hated to think of how it would devastate the girl. Julia carried his child, but she was not sure the woman had the strength to remember how important that was.

  It was a worry she could not solve or plan for so Abbie decided to put it aside. She had almost finished all her flowers on the hem, hiding the majority of the spots, and idly thought on what she could do next. Then a little shadow fell over her sewing and she looked up to stare into Noah’s bright eyes, surprised to find him downstairs. None of the children came down, but Noah was obviously getting confident of his welcome, at least from her.

  “Hello, Noah. What might you want?” she asked.

  “Are you gonna read to us tonight?”

  “I thought I would. Why? Don’t you want me to?”

  “Oh yes, but I was wondering if you k
now how we could get a new book. You’ve done read all the others to us and we were thinking it’d be real nice to have something new.”

  She frowned as he sat down next to her in the chair, gently nudging her to the side until he had the room he needed. Abbie realized she had no idea how to find a new book for the children. She then tried to think if she knew any stories so that she might just tell them one but her mind was suddenly totally empty.

  “I think I will have to ask the other ladies. Hunt around a little. I have no idea where or how one could get one in this town.”

  “The store?”

  “I thought about that, but I saw nothing in there the few times I went in. The man has enough trouble just getting in food supplies. I doubt he thinks much of getting things like a children’s book. But I will ask.”

  “Maybe your soldier friend would know?”

  “Huh. Maybe he would. I will ask him, too.”

  “I will tell the others you are going to go looking,” he said, hopped off the chair, and raced off to go back to the children’s room.

  “What did you just promise the child?” asked Rose as she sat down in the chair opposite Abbie.

  “I did not promise anything. They want a new book to hear at story time and I said I would look for one.”

  Rose laughed. “To a child that can sometimes sound like a promise. Why not just tell them a story?”

  “Thought about that but suddenly could not think of a single one. Odd, because my da was always telling me stories.”

  “Ah, yes, that is often the way. You will recall them but not when you need to. I am not sure where or how one could get hold of a child’s storybook in this town. Most of the ones who had children and would have one fled the minute the Union marched in. I doubt they left any behind.” Rose looked away and rubbed her chin. “Maybe I can find out if any of the women know a good story and we can write it down.”

  “Make our own book?”

  “Something like that. I have some ledger books we could use or the general store had a few journals for sale. Most women do not keep them because they are expensive or they just don’t see the point in writing about what is an ordinary day. You know, ‘Well, I washed Henry’s long johns today,’” Rose said in a slightly higher tone of voice. “Not really of interest.”

  “Fair enough,” Abbie said and chuckled. “We will see how many have something to contribute.”

  “Between all of us, we must have a few. I suspect we could make up a good book.”

  Abbie nodded. She and Rose complained about the lack of goods due to the war for a while and then Rose wandered back to where the other women sat. Abbie tried to recall if she had put aside a favorite child’s book in her chests but could not remember. It would be worth a look, she decided, and then came a rap on the door.

  Mrs. Beaton got up from her knitting and went to answer the door. A moment later Abbie heard the sound of a very familiar male voice. Her heart skipped and she cursed herself for an idiot. It obviously could not tell the difference between romance and friendship.

  “The lieutenant is here to see you, Miss Jenson,” Mrs. Beaton said in a cool voice. “I put him in the parlor.”

  Like he is a vase, Abbie thought, and bit back a smile as she rose and walked to the parlor. Matthew stood by the window, staring out, with his hands clasped behind his back. He stood straight as if at attention like the soldier he was. She shut the door and he turned to face her and her mindless heart skipped a beat again.

  “I dinnae believe Mrs. Beaton is verra fond of soldiers coming round to visit the ladies here,” he said.

  “No, she isn’t, but she is smart enough to know she can do little about it, I guess. And I begin to think Mrs. Beaton is fond of very little. I also think some soldiers come round not just to see a woman but to get a touch of all they left behind, if that makes sense.”

  “It does. They hanker for a wee bit of the gentility they used to know. And how have ye been doing?”

  “Well, I have been doing as fine as can be expected. There is one thing. Noah thinks they need a new storybook, or five. None of us knows where to get one. Rose suggested we all write out stories we recall being told and that is a very good idea but it will be a while before that is put together.”

  “I can ask around. Come and sit with me and then, maybe, we could go for a stroll.”

  She laughed as she sat down on the settee and he sat down rather close to her. “I doubt this town has seen so many people going for a stroll in however long it has been here.”

  “Probably not but that might be a good thing. Such sights can give some the feeling of normal life and ease their fears.”

  “One does not want them to ease them too much, I think. Not in the middle of such a bloody war.”

  She realized he had draped his arm along the back of the settee and was now playing with her hair. It was oddly soothing to have him dragging his fingers through her hair so she decided to say nothing. She relaxed her head against the back of the settee and stared up at the ceiling to find it was another elaborately plastered ceiling.

  “True enough. Being always alert for trouble is what will get them through this.”

  “I begin to fear this war will never end.”

  She tensed when he kissed her face, right near the corner of her eye. Even as she started to turn to ask him what he was doing, she knew it was not a good idea. He was so close when she turned, she could see what thick eyelashes he had. Then he kissed her on the mouth.

  It was a deep, hungry kiss and Abbie quickly wrapped her arms around his neck to keep steady. When he put his tongue in her mouth she nearly jumped but the feel of it stroking the inside of her mouth swept away her shock and replaced it with the urge to hold on tighter. She even tentatively returned the strokes of his tongue with hers and a low growl sounded in her ears. He slowly pulled back and she stared at him, a little afraid she probably looked like a startled frog.

  “We best be careful or Mrs. Beaton will banish me from the house,” he said.

  Let her just try, Abigail thought as she leaned back and found she was still clutching his neck. “Sorry,” she mumbled as she hastily removed her arms.

  “Quite all right,” he said, and grinned as he stood up and held out his hand. “How about we take a little walk?”

  “Is it cold?” she asked as she took his hand and walked with him as they left the room.

  “Just a small nip in the air.”

  She put on her coat and let him take her by the hand to lead her outside. They meandered down the street for a while in a comfortable silence. Abbie decided she liked the fact that they did not need to fill the silence with empty talk. Then she thought of something she really wanted to know.

  “I did not see Boyd in the infirmary yesterday. He is all right, isn’t he?”

  “Aye. I only saw him the other day and he has not worsened.”

  “Good. I was a little worried about that but did not dare question the doctor. Mostly afraid of what he might say. The arm still does not work.”

  “Nay, but the doctor had a few suggestions.”

  “Work it, right?”

  “Aye, if only to keep it from withering from disuse. I will see him tomorrow most like and can work with him. It is his spirits I dinnae ken what to do about.”

  Abbie nodded. “He must be so disappointed that it has not returned to normal. It is nearly as bad as losing it completely as so many have.”

  “It will take time for him to see it is better to have it useless than to lose it,” she said and squeaked when he suddenly stopped and pulled her into his arms. “I thought we were strolling.”

  “This is a very important part of strolling with a bonnie lass.”

  “Or so men tell themselves,” she said, and threw her arms around his neck.

  He pulled her hard up against him. Abbie liked the way he felt against her, all warm and hard. She had done enough nursing to know that one particular part of him was very hard indeed so she decided those k
isses were not signs of mere friendship. It lifted her spirits considerably.

  Abbie leaned back a little to look at him, glancing around to make sure they were still alone. A glint in a tree behind caught her attention as she glanced over his shoulder. She squinted toward it, saw some movement in the branches around where it was, and felt terror chill her body. She shoved at him and he stumbled back.

  “Get down!” she yelled, grabbing his hand to pull him down to the ground with her.

  They hit the ground a little harder than she had intended just as a shot was taken, the bullet passing over their heads. Matthew swore viciously and Abbie had to agree with his sentiments as he started to crawl toward a spot between the buildings they were in front of. She did her best not to slow him down and ignored the occasional sound of something tearing.

  Matthew sat down with his back against the wall of the building and tugged Abbie over to sit next to him. “Ye need to get back to the house. Can ye get there by going the back way?”

  Abbie nodded. “I know the way.”

  “Get everyone to go into the jail. It is a sturdy brick building that should protect all of ye.”

  “What will you do?”

  “Run back to headquarters and tell the major we may be under attack.”

  She kissed him. “Be careful.”

  “Same to ye, lass. Stay low and in the shadows.”

  Abbie scurried to the end of the alley and then bolted for the Beaton house. They had not walked far so she was there in minutes. Bursting into the house through the kitchen she ran for the sitting room. All the women in there stared at her when she ran into the room. She was pleased to see that Julia was there as well so she did not have to worry about dragging her out of bed.

  “Abbie! What is wrong?” asked Rose. “You are a bit of a mess. Did you have trouble with the lieutenant?”

  “No, of course not. We were shot at and had to duck into an alley. Now we have to run for the jail.” Abbie fought to catch her breath. “We are under attack.”

  “Why can we not stay here? It has survived other attacks,” said Mrs. Beaton.

  “Matthew says the jail is safer. Too many windows here and it could be set on fire. They do that to make the people run out so they can shoot them. The jail has thick brick walls. So we better get moving. I will get the children.”