by Leigh Lee
Once that was accomplished, she made ready for her escape. Gathering her courage, she rose to her feet and dared a peek. The pond was deep enough that even with the captain’s height, only his shoulders and head were visible. He was facing her way with his hair lathered and his eyes closed against the sting of the suds running down his face. Now would be her best opportunity. Taking it, she ran as if the very devil himself was after her.
~*~*~
Jeff was enjoying his solitary moment. He found the briskness of the water refreshing, and after the harrowing events of the afternoon, felt most deserving of this reward. He had been surprised to find the lantern sitting at the edge of the pond. Though he had been here many times to bathe, he had never found evidence of another. That someone else had found his secret bathing hole made him leery of staying too long.
About to dunk his head to rinse away the suds, he heard boots pounding down the path. Diving beneath the surface, he swam for the edge and exited the pond only seconds later.
In the moonlight, he caught a glimpse of a slim figure fleeing. He was certain he saw a blue Union uniform jacket. If one of his men had defied confinement, he intended to catch him in the act. Without giving a thought to his state of undress, Jeff leaped into pursuit.
The determination to discover the man’s identity drove Jeff on, and in a matter of seconds, he closed on the fleeing soldier. Once he was near enough, he dove forward and wrapped his fingers around a booted ankle, holding tight.
The action brought them both down to the ground, and Jeff shouted for the man to halt. Apparently, the fool did not intend to obey, for he fought like a tiger. The heel of a boot came down hard on Jeff’s wrist. The forceful chopping caused him to release his hold. Howling in pain, he reached out with the other hand but missed his target by mere fractions of an inch.
The figure was up and running again, but not before Jeff thought he caught sight of a shaggy head.
By damned! Surely, he did not just see Sergeant Adams. He could not believe that the sergeant would be away from camp against orders, especially after all the trouble that had occurred earlier. Jeff jumped to his feet, craning his neck to see over the bushes and down the path. He caught one more glimpse of the departing figure just before the moon slid behind a cluster of clouds and cast him in total darkness.
Cursing, Jeff decided not to pursue any further. If it was indeed Sergeant Adams, he knew where to find the boy, and the sergeant better be there, or by God, he was going to learn the reason why. Fuming, he stomped back down the path, wondering why for every step forward the sergeant made, there were always two steps backward.
Clouds continued to roll in, obscuring the moon, and without its light, Jeff stumbled about in the dark to stay on the path. Twice he wandered into thorn bushes, while mosquitoes hungry for his blood swarmed about him. By the time he arrived back at the pond, he was livid. Dropping to his knees, he stretched his hands out in the darkness feeling for his belongings but found nothing there.
Damnation! What the hell happened to my blasted clothes?
He remembered the lantern he had seen earlier. It took several minutes filled with blazing curses before he managed to light the wick. Holding the lantern high, Jeff spied one lone sock tangled on a thorny branch. Crouched like a wild beast, he searched around trees and bushes for his missing garments.
A misty rain began to settle over the area, dampening everything including Jeff. Mosquitoes attacked his naked hide with vigor. Swatting and growling like a rabid animal, he trudged through briars until he found his clothing stuffed under a low-lying bush. Covered by thorn scratches and bug bites, he shook out his clothes and dressed in a rush. Envisioning the sergeant running away, he swore under his breath. That one is going to pay dearly for this piece of torment.
Chapter 11
Exhausted, Eugenia arrived back at her quarters, still astonished the captain had taken up the chase naked. When he had captured her boot, she had feared her masquerade was over. Somehow, she had managed to free herself and flee before he had the chance to stand. She shuddered to think what might have happened if the moon had not slid behind that cloud.
Once within the safety of her quarters, she collapsed onto her cot and fell asleep with the assurance that her identity remained safe. Sometime later, she was rudely awakened when someone yanked her from her cot. A huge hand shot out to grip her injured shoulder. Eugenia cried out as pain ripped through her back and down her arm. Standing in her shirt and long johns, her blurry eyes sought the face of her attacker.
Captain Bradford! She shuddered as she met an expression of smoldering anger. Gulping back the lump of fear in her throat, she wondered if perhaps she had hidden his clothes a tad too well.
He glared at her, his face sporting welts from a dozen bug bites. Pine needles hung from the epaulets of his Union frock coat, burrs stuck to his pants, and his usually well-groomed hair stood at odd angles from his scalp. The man appeared to be about as infuriated as she had ever seen him.
The very fact he was here in the middle of the night rousing her from sleep meant he suspected her. Terrified he might have recognized her, she flinched upon meeting his penetrating blue eyes. Knowing it would incriminate her further not to remark on the obvious, she squeaked, “Captain, what happened to you? You are covered with debris!”
Irate eyes raked over her, surely looking for any sign of guilt with which to convict her. As she stared, pie-eyed and still fogged with sleep, she was relieved to see doubt begin to soften his gaze.
“How long have you been here, Sergeant?” he grilled her.
“How long? Why, you should know, sir. You ordered me confined to quarters. I have been here catching up on my sleep ever since you left.”
His gaze flew to her cot and then took in her carefully arranged boots and her jacket folded on the chair. He squinted at her again as he deliberated over her answer. She braced herself, fighting the urge to tremble. The longer he stared, the more likely he was to see something—some detail she had overlooked. She was about to fall apart, collapse at his feet into a quivering mass of guilt and tears. A fragile hope that he might not have recognized her was all that steeled her resolve.
Pretending surprise, she risked a question of her own. “Why have you come to yank me from sleep, sir? Is there something you require?”
His voice condemned her. “I thought I saw you earlier this evening, away from the camp. Were you at the pond? Did you hide my clothes?”
Eugenia withered beneath the hard scrutiny. She had seen this look before, and the probing stare meant he was surely on the verge of discovery. Fighting the pain, she squared her shoulders to look more masculine. “The pond sir?”
He ran his hands through his black wavy hair. Though Eugenia found the mannerism endearing, it also told her he was becoming frustrated. He needed more to convince him of her innocence.
“Sir, I have been here as ordered,” she lied once more, worried her guilt burned as brightly on her face as it did on her conscience.
Confusion seeped into his eyes, replacing the anger. He half turned away. “Hell! For a moment in the moonlight—I was so certain. I suppose I may have erred,” he added, shaking his head.
Eugenia stared up at him, as closely mimicking the face of righteousness and purity as her guilty conscience would allow. She could tell he was no longer sure of what he had seen, and it was evident he wanted to believe her. He blew out his breath, discharging the tension within his body. “Bad luck seems to have marked me for target practice of late.” He sank to the chair and murmured low. “Something is amiss, and somehow it continues to elude me.”
You are right. It was me, she admitted to herself, feeling guiltier than ever.
She wished she could tell him the truth about everything, but fear over the consequences kept her silent. The captain was wrestling with what he saw, and out of a desire to believe in her word he was now questioning his memory. If he would just quit paying so much infernal attention to every little thing she did,
things might go easier for them both. It was as if subconsciously he knew there was a secret to be uncovered, and his brain was determined to figure out what it might be.
He glanced up at her. “I owe you an apology for waking you in such an abrupt manner. It’s just I could have sworn—” His voice trailed off. Obviously once again, reflecting on what he thought he had seen.
Eugenia watched with silent dread as conflict skittered across her captain’s features. “Sir, there is no need to apologize. I am sure it was some childish prank. I cannot imagine anyone here in camp stupid enough to disobey your orders of confinement to quarters.” She did not need him rethinking everything, any more than she needed the blotch of color that spread over her cheeks as she acknowledged to herself, Well, there is one person.
“Yes, perhaps you’re right,” he agreed, picking at the burrs on his sleeve. “It is late. I suppose it is better to accept your explanation than dwelling further on the occurrence tonight.” He slapped his hands down on his thighs and rose, his brow still furrowed. “I trust you will forgive me for ruining your night’s sleep.”
Once the captain was gone, Eugenia threw herself onto her cot. This, by far, was the closest she’d come to discovery. Why did she always act without thinking things through beforehand? She could have ignored her aching shoulder and stayed in her quarters as ordered. It would have saved them both a lot of time and trouble, and he would not have glowered at her just now with his incredible blue eyes, twisting her heart into hundreds of knots. He was one of the most honest and kind men she had met, and her conscience tortured her over the frequency with which she had lied to him of late. If he ever found out who she was, he was sure to hate her for all the deceit, and his hatred was something she could never abide.
The more time she spent around Jeff Bradford, the more her love for him grew, and the more hopeless the situation became. The longing for him to love her in return, though unrealistic, grew stronger each day as well. To have a life with him, have him return her love, was the most glorious fantasy she could imagine. However, to achieve such glory meant she must first confess everything to him, including the fact she was a murderer. This honorable man would never get past that fact, assuming he would even find her attractive once he knew she was a woman.
Eugenia was not sure whose repose was more disturbed this night—the captain’s or hers. Lamenting in misery, she considered herself at least deserving of torment, for this whole disaster had begun with her, years ago.
The next evening Eugenia sat alone at dinner, as was her usual custom, keeping her head low. She had seen the captain often throughout the day, and many times, she had caught him studying her with questioning eyes. Though he had accepted her explanation that she was not the person on the path last night, she could tell he was still troubled by it.
More and more she wished she had never begun this deception and could return to her former self. If she were not so afraid of being tried for murder, she would do it. Perhaps it would be best to simply leave, take her unrequited love, and begin life anew. If she went back to living as a woman, the military authorities would never find her.
An eerie feeling crept up her spine, interrupting her thoughts. Making a casual sweep of the mess tent, she spied Alex Lawson glaring at her from a nearby table. After suffering the buck and gag, he had been content with casting dirty looks her way. However, upon gaining her attention, the enormous plate of stew before him seemed of more interest, and he went back to shoveling it into his mouth.
Careful to keep her attention on her own food, Eugenia tried in vain to finish her meal, but her belly was gripped by a sudden queasy feeling. Her appetite had not been very good of late. She pulled her union-issued cap lower to shade her face. Shuffling to her feet, she returned the tin plate and sought refuge in the cool night air.
As Eugenia walked toward her quarters, she shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her jacket. Her fingers brushed against something, and she gasped as she remembered the letter the Confederate soldier, Fred, had begged her to mail. How could she have forgotten all about it? Hurrying to her quarters and once alone, she withdrew the correspondence. The envelope was not sealed. Before she could wonder if it was an invasion of privacy, she unfolded the letter and began to read it.
May 29, 1863
My dearest sister,
Information has been coming in, and the payment for such has been outstanding. Soldiering for the Union Army has not been such a bad assignment for they have ample supplies. Recent events, though, have made it necessary to cut my stay here short.
The Confederacy has paid us an enormous sum for the information I sold them. As I met with our agent from Richmond, some Union soldiers saw us and my cover was blown. I have had to go into hiding In the meantime, I have also learned that General Lee is moving north, into Pennsylvania. I intend to infiltrate the Confederate forces, which are now gathering near Gettysburg, and hide amongst their ranks until it is safe to continue home.
You must not tarry in returning home yourself, for I fear you may be in danger as well. God willing, I shall meet you in Taneytown within a few weeks. My dearest Vickie, God forbid, should anything happen to me, rest assured that there are enough funds in our account to provide you a comfortable living for the rest of your life. Please pray for me, dear sister.
Your loving brother,
James
Eugenia’s sorrow over not posting the letter turned to shock. The content of the message was clear evidence that Fred, whose name was apparently really James, had been a spy, but it also implicated his sister, whom he called Vickie.
She blanched. Victoria claimed to be from Taneytown. Blood rushed to her face. It seemed too much of a coincidence. All the evidence suggested the Vickie mentioned in the letter was indeed Victoria Winfred. Looking back over the woman’s behavior, Eugenia grew convinced Victoria might be capable of espionage. The idea that the blond had been using Captain Bradford to garner information inflamed her. Before she could stop herself, she crushed the letter into a tight wad, threw it to the ground, and kicked it across the tent. Oh, if she could only get her hands on that traitorous floozy she would make her regret taking advantage of the man she loved.
She stared at the ball of paper on the floor. I should go to Captain Bradford and inform him of this!
Knowledge of her treachery would certainly calm the man’s pursuit of Miss Winfred. Jubilant that she had discovered Victoria was not what she seemed, Eugenia retrieved the ball of paper and smoothed the page open. Folding it, she put the letter back into the envelope and was almost out of the supply tent with it before she froze in her tracks.
When Captain Bradford had questioned her about Lt. James Winfred, it never occurred to her that the man named “Fred” who died in her arms could have been Victoria’s brother, James. She had denied knowing anything about him.
Oh God. Surely, she could count on Captain Bradford to believe her, but he would be obliged to turn the matter over to the provost marshal. What manner of questions concerning her might Army intelligence ask? The last thing she needed was to be part of an investigation that might delve into her past.
Then she thought of Private Lawson. Lawson would gladly reveal what he had seen her comforting the dying man. His embellishments would link her more firmly to the spy and cast further doubt as to why she had not brought the letter to the captain’s attention sooner.
She stared at the envelope in her hand. No, it was too risky to get involved. A woman wanted for murder, who desperately needed to remain hidden, did not need this kind of notoriety.
If Captain Bradford found out she had this letter in her possession for so long, he would think she had lied to him. Then since a spy wrote it, too many questions would arise that she could not answer.
Miserable, Eugenia paced a path back and forth. She was torn between what she knew was her duty and the overwhelming fear of discovery if she did it. Spying was as serious a crime as murder, and she had already done that. To involve herself in
this could thrust her into a world of danger with only one possible outcome—hanging. Unable to come up with a solution, she plunked down on her cot, fingering her aching brow. Her own web of lies was quickly becoming the very snare, which now threatened to entrap her.
Taps sounded, and the haunting call echoed through the quiet evening, signaling the end of the day. She was sure by now Captain Bradford was in his quarters preparing for sleep. Worn out and feeling as if she was becoming ill, Eugenia decided it was best to retire for the night. She removed her trousers and hung them on a nail buried in the wooden frame of the supply tent, and then she loosened the bindings on her chest. Of late, sleeping with the length of fabric wound tight around her breasts seemed to make her short of breath. She crawled into bed with a moan, and flung her head down on the pillow, knowing sleep would be difficult to come by this night.
Looking back over the last few days, she realized she had not felt well for some time. She needed to rest, yet as long as she still had this letter in her possession, sleep would be a futile effort. Finally, she scrambled out of bed in a huff and flicked open her father’s pocket watch. It read midnight, and morning reveille would sound at a very early four o’clock.
The accursed letter was burning a hole in her pocket as well as playing havoc with her peace of mind. Despite the danger it presented, the plan hatching in her brain to rid herself of it seemed like a good one. Surely, the captain would be asleep by now. It would be a simple matter to slip into his quarters, place the letter on his desk, and be gone before he knew anyone had been there. Then there would be no way anyone could trace the letter back to her.