Embers of Anger (Embattled Hearts Book 1)

by Anna St. Claire

  Once installed, she thought about the handsome face inside The Griddle. No! What is going on with me? One handsome face and I am making a cake of myself. He was the enemy, the invader. He was a Yankee. Though that was one handsome face that also saved your life. “Ugggghhhhh!” she screamed out in a frustrated burst, as much to stop her thoughts as to protest them.

  The Elders had thought the war wouldn’t touch New Bern, or at least that was what they’d told everyone. When they’d found out the Yankees were coming, they’d said, “Our boys will win.”

  They had been wrong. Not only had some of her family and friends died or gone missing but her own life as she’d known it had changed. When her father disappeared, she had become more of a mother to Aiden than his sister. It had all happened so quickly.

  Urging Bess to pick up speed, Ella cringed at the town’s destruction. Boarded up homes, buildings, and broken windows, damaged from looting dominated the landscape. The colorful rose bushes and fragrant gardens from before the war had vanished, replaced by a few hardier flowers that had pushed themselves towards the sun from beneath overgrown, unkempt grass and bushes, spurred by the spring weather.

  Seems like all the nicer homes are now, occupied by the Yankees. She felt her chest tighten. She had heard there were close to twenty thousand in the area, a number she still couldn’t comprehend. Well, at least they were doing something useful by repairing some of their chaos. Flicking the reins, she urged the mare to pick up her speed. She couldn’t get home soon enough.

  Chapter 3

  Colonel Jackson Ross watched the beauty in royal blue talking to Sara. It didn’t escape his notice she never offered her name—nor that the woman was wearing something different. Recalling her state of panic and disrepair when he last saw her, he understood. Unnerved by the incident, she glanced back at him, and he winked. She blushed, and while he realized the rudeness of his behavior, he couldn’t help himself. The lady intrigued him. When she rushed out the door, he broke out into a grin.

  What a woman. But my God, what a temper! Funny, though, it suits her.

  Despite her temper and the manner in which she had ignored him, he thought about how that gorgeous red hair would look spread across a pillow, curls surrounding her face, the first light of morning just breaking through the window, her arm across his naked chest... Heat spread up his neck as he grasped where his thoughts had just traveled. No surprise, he found his pants felt more than a little snug.

  Jackson tried to focus his thoughts on what he needed to get done, but the soft scent of jasmine brought his thoughts back to her. Diverting his thoughts wasn’t effective. I might have to sit here all day.

  A calendar on the wall caught his attention. May 1862. It had been at least six months since he had been in the company of a woman, and this one was taking over, in what… minutes? She paid him no attention—tried to pretend they had not met—and here he was, suffering on her behalf.

  Just who was the redheaded beauty? I’ll make it my business to find out. After several long and boring months, this town was showing real merit.

  Jackson Ross couldn’t focus except on the memory of the woman that had just walked out the door. A green-eyed spitfire. A man could lose himself in her eyes. They were the largest, greenest eyes he had ever seen. She was a complete vision.

  Yes, and I am becoming a complete fool. She was a real spirited one. What is her story?

  He laughed when he thought about her face when she left. Unable to resist, he winked at her. She looked stricken and nearly ran out the door. The minx. It was clear from her silence she intended to keep their earlier meeting to herself.

  Perhaps it was her scent of jasmine, a pleasant smell he had always appreciated. She smelled delightful and for the time when he was helping her, he didn’t smell the stale stench of smoke that had permeated the town since the battle in March.

  Christ! I am in the middle of a war and I am in charge of thousands of men.

  Jackson’s responsibilities with the war effort were tenfold. He was charged with protecting the town, both from within and from the outside. He was also responsible for training the men that would go on more offensive maneuvers. And then there were civic responsibilities.

  It was a big responsibility with this town. There were people who sided with the Union, and then, there were the Rebs. It was a thankless job, but his military career had always been important to him.

  This was a town in turmoil, and it was his town for the time being. It was his job to keep the peace. Many of the men had joined up with the Graybacks and were off fighting. But there were also many Unionists that had joined the northern army, some within the same families as those who were fighting for the South. Heated emotions and distrust dominated.

  Many women in town were without the protection of husbands. The city attracted runaways because of the Union Army’s presence, and households were losing slaves and servants. The climate here was a dangerous one. He hoped for wisdom and a swift end to the conflict.

  The thought of danger brought him back to the young woman who had just left. Jackson recalled she had traveled here alone. He didn’t know how far she lived from town. That concerned him. He needed to check into her situation a little further.

  He had noticed the exchange between Sara and the redheaded beauty. No doubt about it. The owner of this restaurant knew her, and he wanted to know all about her. He needed to know who she was.

  As was his habit, flirt that he was, Jackson flashed his brightest smile. Sara smiled right back.

  “Morning, Sara,” he said, relaxing into a lazy grin.

  “What’ll it be today, Colonel?”

  “Let’s start with some coffee—cream and sugar—and then biscuits and gravy, and grits, please.”

  “Oh! We got in fresh eggs. Are you sure you wouldn’t like a couple of eggs sunny-side up?

  “I seem to have a bigger appetite today, and that sounds great. Yes, let’s add a couple of those eggs, please.” He pulled another napkin in place from the table and placed it on his lap. “And would you share the name of that pretty redhead that just left, Sara?”

  Sara took a deep breath and considered the man in front of her. Nothing escaped her notice. She’d seen the way he was looking at Ella and felt he was more than a little affected. She might be an unmarried woman, but she knew some things about the opposite sex. All kinds of talk went on in there, and she listened. Might learn a thing or two, she always thought. Sara gave her biggest smile to the colonel.

  “Colonel Ross, suh! You are referring to my best friend, Ella Whitford.” Shifting her gaze down, Sara poured his coffee. She bit her lip and tried very hard not to smile when she noticed he had thrown a couple of napkins over his lap.

  Still biting her lip and forbidding herself to grin, she thought about how much information she should give. She might be a pastor’s daughter, but she grew up with boy cousins around her, and until this war, had been around Nolan.

  Her heart seized a little at the thought of Nolan. It had been a long time since she had seen him. Even more concerning, she hadn’t heard from him in two months, since before the battle. She wondered how he was doing… what he was doing. She had hoped Ella would stay a few more minutes, but Ella had been out of sorts and left before they could sit and talk. Sara kept her face schooled despite her thoughts.

  “Care for two sugars with your coffee? And would you like some patties of sausage with your biscuits and gravy?”

  She shuddered and wondered what the colonel wanted with Ella. Sara knew what Ella’s reaction to his inquiry would be. Like her best friend, she hoped the colonel and his men would leave town soon.

  “Your friend, she seemed in town alone today.” He pointed towards the door that Ella had exited through only minutes earlier. “Did she have far to go? I hope I need not tell you these roads are dangerous.”

  “She lives on a plantation out of town apiece.” Looking down at the colonel, Sara put on her most convincing smile. “Don’t you worry ‘bout
Miss Ella. She is a smart one. The usual number of sausage patties, suh?” She prompted him again.

  “No, just two for today since I’m adding the eggs.” Colonel Ross smiled and nodded. “Does Miss Ella come to town often? This is the first time I have seen her in here.”

  Sara fought back the feelings of disloyalty. The colonel came here often. His behavior convinced her of his sincerity. There was no denying that this handsome man could be an interesting challenge for Ella, she mused, taking in the colonel’s very practiced innocent smile. “Pretty regularly. She brings in fresh eggs, produce, and baked goods—whatever she can spare to sell—and today she brought apple pies.”

  Sara offered no other information and placed his coffee in front of him.

  Colonel Ross picked up the coffee cup and took a sip. “Good coffee. And thank you for the information. I apologize for putting you on the spot with my questions, but I assure you, I am only interested in her safety.”

  Ella was in a hurry to get back. As she worried her lower lip, she thought about the handsome colonel and her stomach felt like butterflies fluttering. She had caught him staring at her when he thought she wasn’t looking. How distressing that was!

  Those Yankees were nothing but trouble. Now a body can’t even go to The Griddle without having to deal with their ilk.

  Guilt shot through her. He had saved her life, and he behaved the perfect gentleman in Sara’s restaurant even in the face of her guile. She had felt the air leave when he walked in The Griddle.

  She needed to remember that man was trouble. Not only did he look at her with those piercing blue eyes, but he touched her. Even if it was to help her, it was just too familiar. And for him to think she would allow him to buy her coffee—or anything—without an escort. It was embarrassing.

  And that rascal had winked at me, by God!

  Handsome as he was, he had no business winking at her in such a way. What if someone had seen? She gasped.

  No, definitely not. She wanted nothing to do with him. Besides, she needed to get home to Aiden. A five-year-old could get into a lot of things. He would look for her. He and his precious little puppy would be waiting.

  As much as she willed it otherwise, her mind kept coming back to the colonel. She recalled his smile when she looked back before leaving. On that, her stomach did a flip.

  Bess knew the way home and moved at her usual plodding pace. Ella felt drained, and her attention kept drifting back to the near accident and the colonel.

  Just before they turned away from town, they passed the train station. A train was pulling in, its whistleblowing, heralding its arrival with great gusts of smoke.

  The air around her became stifling, and she gripped the buggy seat with both hands. Goosebumps ran up her arms. Ella closed her eyes, fighting against the memories that were flying back.

  It was just after a spring rain when she and Bess had ridden into town. The train had just pulled into the station on schedule. It was restocking its tender with coal. Its engine sat still on the tracks, hissing while passengers were loading.

  She could smell the smoke swirling around her, filling her lungs. It had come from behind the station where the fighting had been going on that day. Everyone had known the Union Army was on its way, planning to attack New Bern. They had taken it in stride, thinking it would be a quick win for their boys. They were horribly wrong.

  One minute there was calm and normalcy, and then chaos. The poor Southern boys came running and screaming down Front Street, wounded and bleeding, trying to make it into town for help. The Union soldiers were fast on their heels, firing into the running bedlam.

  Fear filled the air as thick as the smoke. The station was complete mayhem. Friends fought for space on the train, desperate to leave town before the Yankees could stop them.

  Carriages and wagons, loaded down to excess, had pushed the horses too hard. She had never seen horses whipped. Some dropped from exhaustion. Others hit bumps in the road, catapulting trunks and packages out of the wagons. Cases overstuffed with beautiful clothing and precious heirlooms fell off wagons in every direction, their contents littering the road.

  She shoved her hand into her mouth to stifle a scream. The image of her elderly neighbor, Mr. Medlum, being pulled under his carriage was still fresh and horrified her. His broken body was dragged behind his horses. No one stopped.

  Oh no! It’s happening again. She closed her eyes and clenched the reins as the familiar feeling took over. Her heart slammed in her chest, heaving; blood pounded with the ferocity of a thundering rain. Her lungs struggled for air, once again overcome from that foul smoke, the smell of fresh gunpowder from the battle invading her senses. She gasped repeatedly for air; her mouth was bone dry. The cloying heat enveloped her body. Beads of sweat crowded her forehead, and a loud roaring took over in her ears.

  Try to calm down. Ella clenched her hands around Bess’s reins. She heard her own voice screaming. “Breathe. Take slow, deep breaths. Slow.”

  And then it was over. Slowly, she could hear the sounds of the town again as the roar of air left her ears. Ella kept breathing. In, and then, out.

  She blinked and realized she was mouthing soothing, calming instructions to herself over and over. Her horse tossed her head and swished her tail, fidgeting, reacting to Ella’s own panicked behavior. This was the second time this had happened, and it frightened her. She looked down at her white knuckles, trying to relax her hands. She thought about what calmed her… Aiden’s cheerful face came to mind. Her body relaxed just thinking about Aiden.

  Ella smiled and made a clicking noise inside of her cheek, urging her horse on. “Come on, Bess. We’re all right now. I’m sorry I got you nervous.” The old horse responded with a soft neigh and a nod of her head, and she trotted away from town.

  A breeze pushed her bonnet back and the wispy tresses that had escaped blew in front of her face. The sensation of the feathery fingers of her hair and the wind in her face calmed her further. As she continued to build the distance between herself and the town, both horse and driver relaxed. The fear she felt moments before disappeared.

  Except for her, Aiden, and a couple of servants, the house was empty. It was anyone’s guess where Papa had run off, drunk and in his usual wretched state. He had cleaned out the jar in the larder, taking with him every cent they owned.

  Papa simply left, leaving no word of his direction other than informing Lizzy that he planned to find Nolan. Her brother wrote, but his letters never told where he was. As she always did, Ella prayed for her brother and she prayed for her papa.

  Nolan left when the first shots were fired at Fort Sumter. Since he had graduated from The Citadel, the Confederacy called him to be an officer. They needed every trained officer they could get, he had said. Southern boys knew how to fight.

  The war would be quick—a few months at most. That's what everyone said. But it had been over a year now, and several New Bern boys that she had known had come home in boxes.

  Then there were also those with their names noted in the newspaper. That was a notoriety no one wanted for a son. North Carolina had only just seceded from the Union, but so many of its young men had already joined to fight for the cause.

  Slaves, sensing freedom, fled in the night. Many sought and found refuge with the Yankees. Property or not, the Yankees refused to return them.

  New Bern was an occupied town now. A tremor overtook her. Her home’s survival was up to her. There was no one else. She promised herself Silver Moon would be there when this war was over, and Nolan came back to them. The loneliness and desolation were overwhelming. Tears brimmed and spilled over her lashes.

  Ella couldn’t fail Aiden. He might not have Mamma or Papa, but he had her. They had each other. They would make do.

  “I don’t think this was our best trip to town, ol’ gal.” Ella thought of the three dollars, the colonel, and her stained white muslin dress. “And I think my dress is ruined. It looks more yellow with all that yolk and dust.” She felt hot and
sweaty—not a good combination with all the dust. She couldn’t get comfortable.

  “There’s no one out here to impress,” Ella muttered aloud to her mare. She slapped the reins against Bess’s hindquarters to encourage her to pick up the pace, hoping to stir more air as much as to increase her speed.

  A loud rustle on the side of the road startled Bess and caused the mare to buck. Fear seized her. Not again! Grasping the reins and almost standing, she regained control again of Bess.

  Twice in one day! Maybe she should not make this trip alone.

  Perhaps she should not make it at all.

  He crawled out of the brush at the same moment a buggy flew past him. The horse tried to rear, and a redheaded woman struggled to hold the reins, keeping the wagon at its full pace. Was that Ella? He moved to the road but lost his balance and fell backward. Getting up once more, he reached down and brushed the beggar lice from his pants.

  He wished he could have seen more of who was in the buggy, still puzzled over the lone woman driving it. He might have gotten a ride if he had gotten onto the road faster. But what a sorry sight he had become; he would have frightened her.

  Nolan pulled himself up and leaned on the thick wooden post he now called his crutch. No longer was he recognizable, even to himself. His once shaven face was now gaunt and covered with hair. His shredded uniform was dirty.

  If anyone spotted him, it would cause problems.

  He had to stay vigilant of every person on the road. It would be difficult to explain his Union uniform in these parts if he were recognized.

  After a long moment of silence, he stretched out his arm and planted his crutch ahead of him. He leaned on his stick and headed in the same direction the buggy had traveled.

  Chapter 4

  Nolan Whitford moaned, but his words were difficult to understand. Sweat soaked his forehead. No matter where he turned, he couldn’t get comfortable. Cool hands placed a wet cloth on his forehead. Nolan wanted to ask about the cloth. He wanted to see whose hands those were, but darkness pulled him back into a smoky black world.