Embers of Anger (Embattled Hearts Book 1)

by Anna St. Claire

  Embers of Anger

  Anna St. Claire

  Edited by

  Jessica Cale

  Copyright © 2018 by Anna St. Claire

  Cover design by Dar Albert, Wicked Smart Designs

  Edited by Jessica Cale, Safeword Author Services

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is dedicated to my mother.

  My mother, a retired English teacher, encouraged my writing as far back as I can remember. As a child, my mother would lead us into story starts on car trips –something that I remember as great fun and a wonderful learning opportunity. She has always been a wonderful advocate for my stories.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  New Bern, North Carolina

  May 1862

  The narrow road widened as the lone young woman and her horse and buggy entered the town of New Bern. Pollock Street was quiet; the old oaks and sycamores lining it didn’t even whisper with their leaves, and with the glaring sun overhead, they provided little respite from the dry heat.

  The back of her dress damp from sweat, Ella Grace Whitford glanced up at the cloudless sky. “Rain would sure be welcome ‘bout now,” she murmured to herself.

  New white flags hung from the storefronts of a few businesses. “Blazes! Look who’s gone and took the oath,” she muttered through gritted teeth as they passed The Mercantile, its white banner hanging lifelessly over its door.

  They had taken this route so often that Bess needed little guidance. Her horse slowly pulled the buggy left onto Craven Street and headed for their familiar stop.

  Damn Yankee invaders have no respect. They steal anything they want from us—even our dignity.

  Two months ago, the Yankees invaded the town. The battle ripped the heart out of the small city, and with it, the life Ella knew. They took over the town. They call it an occupation, but it is more like humiliation. The Yankees fancied themselves in charge of everything and held that over the heads of those that had remained behind.

  Ella’s own losses had mounted up with this war. Her father abandoned them at nineteen, leaving Ella to raise her younger brother with only the help of a few trusted house servants. They were her family.

  As if on cue, four Union soldiers on horseback came at full gallop, careening around the corner, and overtook the buggy, kicking up a giant red dust cloud behind them that spread in all directions.

  Her mare reared. The wagon pitched violently onto its two right side wheels, then slammed down on all four. The impact sent baskets flying from behind the seat, their contents spraying into the air and falling everywhere.

  Ella tried to stand but couldn’t. She fought to hold on, trying to regain control. “Whoa, girl, whoa! Bess, steady! Whoa! Calm down, old girl. Whoa!” She tried to calm her frightened mare with a white-knuckled grip. Her efforts were fruitless. “Oh my God! Bess, please stop!”

  A Union soldier ran towards her from the provost headquarters just across the street.

  Bess neighed and snorted trying to escape, her front legs flailing violently in the air. The soldier arrived at her side and tried to stop the horse’s panicking. Repeatedly, he reached until he grabbed her halter. Gripping it tightly, he coaxed and pulled her back. She responded to his strong, steady grip and dropped, still snorting. Grasping her halter with one hand, he calmed her further with the other. “Whoa, old girl. Steady as she goes.” He pulled on her harness as she reared up once again, tugging her back down.

  The buggy stopped rocking and rested on all four wheels. The cloud of red dust settled down, coating everything in its path. Two baskets lay outside the buggy—one shredded from the pounding of Bess’ hooves, the other empty and covered with dirt. Eggs and vegetables from the baskets coated the ground, with yellow yolks spewing everywhere.

  Noticing her shaking hands, she released the reigns and took a deep breath, needing to relax. It was hard while covered in dust and runny yolks. The buggy was also spattered, but somehow Bess had escaped a covering and looked as if that violent kick-up had not just happened.

  The soldier guided the mare to a spot near The Griddle.

  “Ma’am, are you all right?”

  A male voice penetrated her thoughts. She focused on the soldier holding onto Bess’s halter. Vibrant sky-blue eyes locked with hers, and the corners of his mouth lifted into a slow, easy smile, stressing a strong jawline and white teeth. A strange tingling hit the pit of her stomach.

  He motioned towards Bess. “The old girl seems to have calmed down now.” He reached up and patted Ella’s hands, leaving a curious new sensation of awareness spreading through her arms. She studied where he had touched her, marveling at the new feeling pulsing through her.

  Ella opened her mouth to answer him, but nothing came out. She could only nod her head at the man standing in front of her. She willed her breathing to slow and her heart to stop pounding certain he could see its beat through her chest. He had saved her life—a Yankee! A very handsome Yankee—one with arresting eyes and a warm, gentle touch, but a Yankee all the same.

  “I think your horse is fine now.” He patted Bess’s rump and rubbed the horse’s back, smoothing down her mane. Once the mare had calmed down, he released her halter and picked up the reins Ella had dropped. He looped and tied them to a carriage post on the wooden sidewalk.

  “Ma’am, let me help you.” He extended his arm to help her down from the buggy.

  Ella shook her head. She could only manage a frozen half-smile in response. “Thank you, suh. I believe I’m fine.” She glanced at the chaos that surrounded her. “But I suppose I should get this mess cleaned up, first.” Was that her voice? It sounded strained and squeaked as she addressed him. Nerves?

  A wetness oozed down her arms, making her aware of the streams of dripping yolk. The cloying substance draped her arms, clothing, the seat, and even her shoes. Two eggs rolled towards the edge of the seat, and she grabbed them, saving them. Others didn’t fare so well. Sickened by the wet mess, Ella snatched a towel from the basket, intent on blotting up stickiness.

  The street was silent, and to her distress, she noticed that she had drawn the notice of several people walking along the boardwalk. As the yolks dripped from the sides of her buggy, mortification heated her face and she dropped the towel.

  “No good Yankees!” She blurted out the words and then regretted it. She turned to face him. “I apologize, suh.” Keeping her voice above a whisper, she explained, “It’s just that this was all we had to sell this week, and now there’s this mess… it’s just so upsetting.” Well, that hardly describes my mood.
<
br />   “Ma’am, please…” He gave a cautious smile. “I understand your fright and your displeasure. Why, if this happened to my little sister, I expect she might never ride in a buggy again.”

  Warily, she glanced up at him and recognized the officer’s insignia on his uniform. She simpered but inwardly recoiled. Yankees are bad enough, but I am rescued by an officer! She was unimpressed by any Yankee’s rank. She had no regard for the officers running her town—or rather, running roughshod over her town.

  “Suh… this mess… it was all the fault of those riders. Those men just plowed around the corner and nearly killed both Bess and me. They didn’t slow down, even. There is no way they didn’t see us.” She tried to be civil, but her voice betrayed her. The more she spoke, the more strident her voice became. She knew he was only trying to help her… but she felt justified because he was a Yankee.

  And Yankees take away anything and anyone near and dear. They rip up lives.

  A year into this horrible war, and she had already seen too much ripped away.

  “They will kill us all!” Taken back by the shrill sound of her own voice, she looked down, embarrassed, and fumbled with the buggy’s brake stick.

  He stepped back, increasing the room between them. However, his expression was one of complete understanding. “Ma’am…”

  She cut him off, not wanting to hear what he might say about her outburst. Tension riveted her body. “I apologize again, suh. My nerves seem to have taken control. I think I am still unsettled from nearly being killed.” Ha! She knew it was more than the buggy accident that had unnerved her but couldn’t say that. There should be a law against being a good-looking Yankee.

  Discomfited, she lost her composure. “Tarnation! I’m a mess now. My dress and my good shoes are all covered with yellow muck.” She clapped her hand over her mouth. Tasting yolk on her palm, she gagged.

  She grabbed up the towel again and wiped her hands and mouth, spitting out bits of eggshells that had stuck to the towel. Nervous and angry, she flicked the loose strands of hair from her eyes and dabbed at her dress with the towel. It was hopeless, she thought, bending over to wipe the drippy substance off her shoes.

  “Oh, please, allow me to help.” Without waiting for a reply, he pulled out his handkerchief and leaned in to help wipe her shoes.

  Startled by his help, Ella jerked her head back, banging her head into his chin. The jolt knocked his hat off his head, revealing brown, wavy hair hanging down the back of his neck. It didn’t look dirty and greasy like many other men. It looked… nice.

  “Ouch.” She pulled back, biting her lower lip to keep back a smile, her anger forgotten. “Oh dear!” She touched her lip with the towel to make sure she had not caused it to bleed.

  “My apologies, ma’am.” He rubbed his chin. “I thought to help you clean up some of this mess that my men caused you. I didn’t mean to add to your misery.” He drew back, grinning. “I can see I have not helped your distress.”

  Is that a dimple on his chin? I’ve always heard a dimple on a man’s chin means good-natured. That wouldn’t hold true for a Yankee, or could it?

  “Thank you. I appreciate your help, but… I am fine.” Ella squirmed a little under his gaze.

  She gathered what remained of the produce she’d brought with her, then reached behind her seat and shoved it back into the baskets. Cook always wrapped her pies and packed them in their basket. They were still intact. Remarkable.

  She counted what remained. “Half a basket of eggs and one basket of sticky, wet vegetables! Sara has to clean those off. Cripes!” Realizing she’d said it out loud, she clamped her mouth shut, not sure of what to say. She had already apologized for her bad humor—twice. Her temper always gave her trouble because she said what she thought when she thought it.

  With no other dry option, she wiped her hands on her dress and climbed down from the buggy, planning to push past him before he could offer any further help. She wanted him to leave.

  She stopped short when he again held his arm out to help her, his face showing no reaction to her harsh words. Ella drew in a slow, deep breath to quell her frustration and accepted his hand.

  “Ma’am, I plan to discuss this incident with the captain who led those men. That is not how we conduct ourselves.”

  She reached up and touched the base of her throat. “Thank you. My heart is still pounding so fast, suh.”

  “That they had to have seen you and didn’t even come back to check tells me they need a lesson in civility. And it's obvious they didn’t see the beauty of the driver.”

  The officer still held her hand. It felt warm, but not the warmth bothersome in the summer heat. As soon as she got down from the buggy, she pulled it free and placed it on his arm. That at least looked proper.

  He covered her fingers with his free hand. Tingles of awareness again shot through her body. This is a wildly pleasant sensation.

  “In the meantime, please accept my sincerest apologies and some recompense for the goods you lost.” He walked with her to the door of the restaurant, stopped and doffed his hat. With all of this excitement, I forgot my manners. My name is Colonel Jackson Ross. I was coming out of the provost’s office across the street when I saw your horse and buggy in distress.” He paused as if waiting for a response. “May I buy you a cup of coffee? I was just planning to have breakfast myself. Sara’s restaurant has the best breakfasts. And I must mention those Southern grits. I enjoy that a lot.” His dimpled grin almost had her nodding in response.

  “I appreciate your kind offer. I do. But I have to decline.” Ella released his arm and pasted the widest smile she could muster on her face. She realized it looked forced, but no matter. She didn’t trust Yankees. He would find out about her and take away something more from her life. She hoped her refusal would send him packing.

  “This does not make up for the fright and losing your eggs and vegetables, but please accept this.” Colonel Ross pulled out three silver dollars from his jacket pocket and placed them in her hand, closing her fingers over the coins.

  Startled by his generosity, Ella stared at the hand with the three coins tucked within it. It had been a while since she had held three silver dollars. She wanted to refuse them, but she had her younger brother, Aiden, and the others to consider. This was much more than she had hoped to get from Sara. They needed this money, and pride would not put food on her table.

  She unfolded her fingers and stared at the coins. “Thank you, suh. This is very generous.” She looked up, straining to keep from blinking, which she saw as a sign of weakness. His eyes drew her in, and she found she could not look away from him. “I hate to turn down your offer of coffee, but I have business to conduct and then I am expected at home. Thank you for helping me with my horse. I think I’m fine now.” She saw disappointment and another emotion she couldn’t identify flash across his face.

  “Well then, would you allow me to escort you back to your home? I would hate for any further incidents to occur.”

  “That is a kind offer, suh, and I am tempted. But I have a short distance to go and Bess knows the way. We will be fine. But thank you.” She’d lied, but she would not show up with a Yankee in tow. Ella hoped, after today, she’d never see him again. He threw her emotions into such chaos.

  “Yes, ma’am. I see. Well, if you insist you are all right, I need to go back to my office for a few minutes. I think I recognized those men, and I plan to get my assistant to locate them. If you will please excuse me?”

  He nodded and started across the street to the provost’s headquarters.

  Ella wouldn’t say she believed him. She looked at the three silver dollars and reflected on his generosity. But then, it was his men who had caused her trouble. Yankees were all alike in her book.

  With that thought, she felt a niggling uncertainty and… guilt.

  Pshaw! She would not allow either to bother her. She was embarrassed, and yes, she was angry. She lifted her chin and pursed her lips, determined to ignore everyth
ing around her that threatened to fire her temper.

  Two Union soldiers walked past as she watched Colonel Ross cross the street. She obliged them with a smile. “No accounts,” she muttered for her own satisfaction between her teeth, grinning. Then, making sure the handsome colonel was out of earshot, she added, “And no manners, either.” She lifted the edges of her dress and turned towards the front door of The Griddle.

  Before walking in, she turned and glanced to where Colonel Ross had gone. Just thinking of him sent that strange fluttering to her stomach again. It was pleasant, yet foreign and frustrating. Until meeting Colonel Ross, she had never experienced this gentle tickling in her stomach.

  Three fresh cavalry horses tied up in front of The Mercantile caught her attention. The store sat next to the provost’s headquarters. A large black one stood several hands higher than the others. I wonder if that horse belongs to him.

  She didn’t plan to change her opinion of Yankees because one had saved her life and showed her kindness. Besides, she wanted to make this a quick trip to town. Her trips were getting easier, but she still dreaded it.

  Runaways were everywhere. Her brother, Nolan, would get angry with her if he knew she was doing this. Well, he would get angry if he were home and not off fighting this dratted war somewhere.

  She sighed. Where are you, Nolan? You would be right. I shouldn’t have come alone.

  She could have brought her overseer, Jason, but with most of the slaves gone, she needed his eyes on Silver Moon, her family home. Besides, he was acting strange—too attentive. It made her uncomfortable.