Embers of Anger (Embattled Hearts Book 1)

by Anna St. Claire

  He shook his head. Friends and family were all in different directions. There still had been no word of his pa. Ella said Pa had taken off one day to look for him, but he had received no notice of someone looking for him. His pa could have been pressed into service, or worse, he could be a prisoner of war in one of those horrible camps.

  Nolan shuddered violently, causing his horse to whinny beneath him. These thoughts weren’t helping.

  “Easy, girl.” He pulled her reins softly and patted her behind her ears. Nolan looked around. Seeing he was still alone once again his thoughts wandered.

  He had heard awful things about the prisoner camps. If that happened to Pa, there was no telling where he could be at the moment. A lump formed in his throat. Pa could be dead and in an unmarked grave. He could be anywhere.

  His heart pulled at that thought. As upset as he had gotten over his pa’s leaving his sister and Aiden, this was his pa and there had been no word of him. He’d have to look for him as soon as he was able, but that would have to wait.

  There had been a lot of waiting with this war. Hurry and wait—that seemed to be the way of things right now. Never knowing if they would have enough men, ammunition, or even enough surprise on their side—his men would hurry up and wait.

  They waited to hear whether the war would be over soon. It seemed not.

  Sara said she would wait.

  He loved Sara. They would have married before the war, but that seemed unfair to her. What if he had gotten killed or badly injured? She would have to mourn for a year or possibly live with a cripple. No. This was the right thing. Sara had understood and promised to wait for him. She could change her mind if she wanted. He hoped she wouldn’t.

  The night before Aiden’s party, he had gotten carried away. Things shouldn’t have gone as far as they did. But they were pledged to each other, and he planned to wed her the minute he came home from war. Until then, their memories would have to keep them warm. Nolan hoped the precautions he had taken to keep her from becoming pregnant had worked.

  Lieutenant Colonel Jameson’s flirting drove him nuts. The thought of Sara in another man’s arms made him crazy with jealousy.

  She assured him she was not encouraging the lieutenant, saying he was just being kind, and that her heart belonged to Nolan. Damn it. Stop this. I trust her.

  He wanted to see her once more, to tell her he loved her. Sara was his touchstone. She was home to him. There would never be enough time for all the kisses he wanted from her.

  Unfortunately, that was not to be. Sara left the house the day after Aiden’s birthday party. That damn Lieutenant Colonel Jameson escorted her back. Marshall hadn’t said a word when he got back, just wore a big grin.

  Nolan shook off the maddening thoughts. He had to get back to his men. There was no choice. He hoped the letter he had left on his bed would convey his love to her. Ella would find it and deliver it to Sara. He had also left one for Ella. She was more than any person could hope for in a sister.

  He was confident Ella had not shared the location or existence of the family’s secret room with anyone, nor would she. He was sure the letters were safe.

  Melancholia overwhelmed him. Jackson insisted on leaving that day but offered no explanation. It puzzled Nolan about how he planned to accomplish getting him out of here. Pickets were everywhere on both sides. He had seen them. Just how would Jackson explain his presence if they were caught?

  Jackson had instructed him to dress in a plain pair of pants and an old shirt and to be here, behind the barn, at six in the morning. He pulled his hat down and waited.

  Jackson could be trusted. While Nolan worried about his sister, he knew Jackson would care for her. At least that was one good thing. If the war ever ended, he could be a decent brother. He liked the man. The only thing he could hold against him was his bad choice of loyalty. On that, Nolan laughed quietly to himself.

  The sound of another horse approaching shook him out of his reverie. Nolan backed his mare behind the building. He felt for the gun in his saddlebag. It had been his father’s gun and had hidden in the library. He hated to take it but didn’t know how he would defend himself if trouble came along. Ella had her small derringer.

  His right hand gripped the handle of his gun. He cocked it, keeping it out of sight as he waited.

  Jackson trotted up to the barn and pulled back on Mason’s reins. He hoped Nolan was there already. He trotted towards the side of the barn, the designated meeting spot. This was the right thing for him to do. If he had turned him over, he would be hanged or go before a firing squad. Spying was a serious crime, and he didn’t think he could protect him.

  He wasn’t about to let that happen. Others in the Union command would not support his decision if they knew, but this escape—the word was difficult to even think—was happening. It had to be successful; he wouldn’t think otherwise.

  Foster had taken over for Burnsides, who had left for Virginia earlier in the week to aid in another major campaign. Foster had just confirmed a rumor that had circulated. He had reason to believe young Confederate soldiers who had returned home due to injury or illness and had taken the oath were being lured to their deaths. His belief was that it was someone in the upper brass, and he wouldn’t share his suspicions. Foster had asked that he and Marshall stay to discuss it after the Monday officers’ meeting at the command center.

  He assigned the investigation to them. There were rumors. If they were to be believed, one or more of the Union brass was doing it. Suspicions swirled around a captain in New Bern.

  As they talked to men, Captain Holland’s name kept coming up. He had shared how he hated the Confederates. His youngest brother had been killed at Fort Sumter and perhaps that was what had given him an ax to grind. Soldiers returning to the area were given a choice—take the pledge of allegiance or face imprisonment. That was the law, and they were sworn to uphold that law.

  The captain didn’t think that was good enough. It was rumored that Captain Holland had visited the men at their homes and ordered them to come with him. Sometimes he offered a flimsy excuse. Sometimes he ordered them to leave with him. These stories were just coming to light.

  Some were found shot to death a half mile from their home. This had been happening for the last couple of months. Holland was reported to have been the last one to see many of the men. It was too much of a coincidence.

  Now that Jackson and Marshall had realized this, they planned to look into this quietly themselves. Jackson wanted to be there in case Holland’s involvement turned out to be true, but first, he needed to get Nolan away.

  Clicking softly, he urged Mason towards the back of the barn. Nolan was waiting, just as they had planned.

  Jackson pulled up alongside Nolan and heard the undeniable soft click of a gun. He drew his lips together as he looked over at Nolan.

  “Sorry. Instinct. I un-cocked my gun.” Nolan winced and brought his hand out of the saddlebag. He grabbed his saddle horn, so Jackson could see his hand.

  “Where did you get a gun? I didn’t know you had one.” Jackson spoke deliberately as he evaluated the man in front of him. Did he read this man wrong? Was this a mistake?

  “Sorry, Jackson. I took my pa’s old six-shooter. Habit. I thought we might need the extra gun.”

  Jackson let out a small whoosh of breath. He realized how tight his body was from stress and tried to relax. He lowered his shoulders and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

  “That’s fine. You are right. We may. So, here is my plan: we will ride towards Kinston. I will get you within two miles of your camp—at least past where I know Union scouts and details to be—and then I’ll head back. Meanwhile, if Union pickets stop us, let me do the talking. I will assess the situation as we get into it. Maybe we will get lucky and have clear sailing. Just don’t act surprised with anything I say—play along. I want to make sure we both get away and I can get back in one piece.”

  “Certainly.” A moment of silence passed. “Jackson, t
hank you for this. I know what you are risking. I hope I would do this for you if the situation was reversed.”

  Nodding, Jackson relaxed, a grin spreading across his face. “You know how I feel about your sister and your brother. And who knows? You could become my brother one day. I want that day to come. This is the only solution.”

  “Brothers. That could be good.” Nolan reached out to shake Jackson’s hand as their horses stood side by side. “Thank you.”

  “Let’s ride.” They trotted away from the town that held both of their hearts.

  Jackson cleared his throat to get Nolan’s attention. “I have a Confederate officer’s uniform sewn into this blanket roll behind me.” Jackson jerked his head to his right, pointing towards the back of Mason. “Before we separate, I plan to give you a gun, ammo, and the uniform. It’s one that had been confiscated from a Confederate body and found its way into my camp.”

  Jackson didn’t comment further on that incident. He looked at Nolan to gauge his reaction.

  “You’ve thought of everything,” Nolan acknowledged. “I don’t know what to say, except thank you.”

  Jackson chortled. “I hope you can say that you can cook. If this trip takes longer than we anticipate, we will need meals. I didn’t pack anything more than hardtack and water.”

  “Yes. I did learn to make a couple of things. Rabbit stew and some simple things like that. We learned to live off the land as young men. You had to be able to cook what you killed.”

  They rode in silence for a while. Nolan cleared his throat and broke the quiet.

  “I know a way. It’s not obvious, and it’s really just a trail, but I think it would keep us off the main road that takes so many back and forth to New Bern if you are game.”

  “Sure. I figured you might know a better way.” He smiled at Nolan and he turned off the road behind him. They rode into the wooded area and soon found themselves on a well-worn trail that ran alongside the river.

  A half-hour later, they smelled smoke. “Looks like something is burning up ahead. That’s Charlie Summer’s place.”

  “You know him?”

  Nolan nodded. “The Summers are our neighbors and members of our church. I’ve known them all of my life. Can we take a minute and investigate?”

  “Yes. We can’t pass it without looking in on them. But let’s agree that if it looks dangerous or if it looks like we would be in over our heads, we need to keep going.” Jackson worried about the cause of the smoke.

  “Agreed.”

  They both kicked their mounts into a run, moving along the perimeter of the property. As they neared it, they noticed the barn was already smoldering. The house was consumed in flames. There were no obvious signs of life, people or horses. Dead livestock lay scattered everywhere. They had all been shot. As the two men got closer, they spotted bodies lying face down in front of the house.

  Without a word between them, they both hurried to the bodies.

  A bad feeling reached the pit of Jackson’s stomach.

  “Oh, no!” Nolan threw his reins aside and dismounted.

  Jackson looked around, studying the landscape. There was an eerie silence. Nothing stirred. He saw no signs of anyone else on the property. He couldn’t shake that suspicious feeling. The barn and the house had to have been set on fire in the last hour. His bad feeling just got worse. He dismounted and walked to the bodies where Nolan was kneeling.

  The couple, an older man and woman, lay face down together. Their bodies connected by clasped hands. Nolan pulled their hands apart and rolled Mr. Summers over. He had a bullet in his chest and had died instantly. Mrs. Summers had been shot in the head.

  “They have powder burns. They were shot at close range,” Jackson observed.

  “Rinny!” Nolan gently laid Mr. Summer’s body back down and moved to the Brittany Spaniel laying nearby. He touched his head, and the dog opened his eyes and whimpered. “Hey, boy.” He rubbed his head slowly. The dog’s eyes struggled open.

  Wide-eyed, he cradled the dog’s head in his lap. “He is still alive. Jackson, I’ve known this dog since he was a puppy. His name is Rinny. He was their companion.”

  Nolan noticed Jackson scrutinizing the grounds, keeping his hand covering his holstered gun. He hoped he didn’t have his back to the people that had done this if they were still around.

  Jackson’s subtle movement reminded Nolan to cover his own gun. He pulled the gun from its holster and placed it beside him before he turned his attention back to Rinny. His voice cracked. “I used to take Rinny with Rover and me when we went fishing. The fastest dog around! Rinny must have tried to defend them.”

  At the sound of Nolan’s voice, the dog tried to lift his head to lick his hand, but his strength failed and Rinny’s head fell back onto Nolan’s lap. His tongue hung out of his mouth.

  “He has a gunshot wound here, left of his chest. Looks like it missed his heart.” Nolan probed the wound and looked closer. He laid the dog’s head down. Pulling out his pocketknife, he stood up. “I will get the bullet out, but he also needs water. He’s parched and might die of thirst before the bullet kills him.”

  He walked to a small well that was still standing on the side of what used to be the house. Turning a crank, he pulled up a bucket of cool water and unhooked it. He took his pocketknife over and held it to the smoldering wood to sterilize it.

  When he got back to Rinny, he steadied the dog and ladled water into his mouth. A few minutes later, the injured dog moved his tail. It was an attempt at a wag.

  “This is gonna hurt, boy.” Nolan worked on the wound a few minutes while Jackson held the dog’s paws and stroked his head.

  “Got it!” Nolan held up the bloodied bullet. “Okay. I need something to stem this flow of blood.” He took his knife and heated it again. After cauterizing the wound, he tore off part of Mrs. Summer’s petticoat and wrapped it securely around Rinny’s chest. A small trickle of blood surfaced, but after a few minutes, the wound closed. Nolan gave the dog more water while he tried to lick his hand.

  Jackson couldn’t help but be moved by the wounded dog trying to repay a kindness. He never had a dog of his own, but always wanted one. A twinge of jealousy at the exchange of feeling between Nolan and Rinny hit him. The dog loved him. He wanted to have that someday—a home and a dog.

  “I guess we have to worry about infection.”

  Jackson looked up at the brilliance of the sunrise, a sharp contrast to the smoky curtain floating up in front. “We can’t leave these bodies for the buzzards. We need to bury them. They must be shallow graves, for now. We’ll mark them with stones. I’ll get a detail and come back to retrieve the bodies later and give them a proper burial.”

  “Sure.” Nolan fought back emotion. He loved this dog. These were his people. They were part of his family. What could they possibly have done to merit such treatment? He looked over at Rinny stretched out in the heat. Feeling a little overwhelmed by this tragedy, Nolan picked the dog up and carried him to the shade of the nearby oak tree to cool him while they buried the Summers.

  Jackson watched Nolan as he gently rubbed Rinny’s back under the shade of the tree. They had already spent too much time, and they had miles to go. Saving the dog’s life could cost them theirs.

  It was useless thinking along those lines. They wouldn’t be able to leave the dog, so he needed to think of something.

  The two of them buried the couple in a shallow grave close to the well and marked it with large stones in the sign of a cross. Both men remained quiet, reflecting on what had happened and what they had just done.

  Jackson was the first to break the silence. “Good thing you found those shovels. You seem to know this property well.”

  Nolan looked up. “Yes, I do. Mr. Summers was my father’s cousin. We saw them every Sunday for most of my childhood. He was part of our family. They had no children. Ella and I spent a lot of time here while we were growing up.”

  “I understand. We need to get moving.” Jackson used his hat
to dust his pants, giving it a slight shake before putting it back on his head. He motioned towards the well. “It will be very warm today so let’s make sure our canteens are full.” He pulled his canteen from his horse and filled it from the bucket. Once full, he passed the bucket to Nolan and wiped off the water that escaped his mouth with the back of his gloved hand.

  Nolan took the bucket of water and poured it over his head to cool himself, and then he filled his canteen. He took a drink and headed to his horse.

  “I cannot leave Rinny here to die. I can’t. But I have an idea.” He waited for Jackson’s reaction.

  As if Rinny understood he was being discussed, the dog lifted his head and licked Nolan’s hand. He was improving a little.

  “It’s okay, boy. We’re gonna help you. I know you tried to protect them.” Nolan gave Rinny some water from his canteen.

  Jackson gazed at the man and the dog in front of him. This day had gotten off to a bad start. What had been a mission he thought would go smoothly was changing pace and getting out of hand.

  Nolan was right. He couldn’t leave the dog, either. The dog would just die. Rinny was a hero, and he didn’t leave heroes to be eaten by buzzards. “Okay, what is your idea?” He watched Rinny try to thump his tail.

  Pointing to the swamp, Nolan replied, “Ol’ Indie. Her home is not too far from here. She knows medicine and she can help Rinny. We can leave him there. When he is better, Carter can bring him home. Ella will keep him for me.”

  “Ol’ Indie lives where?” The information that the soft-spoken black woman lived in a swamp shocked him. “The swamp?” Jackson had heard of people who lived in such places, but it was in books. He had never seen one.

  As he thought about it, it made sense. The woman had been given her independence from the family, and she would protect that. What better place to live than in the swamp? It was hidden from people she wanted to stay away from, and it was a place few would venture. He didn’t want to go there.

  “Okay. Wait. What?” His mind reeled as clarity hit him. He recalled the confidence she worked with healing Ella. That was why they could never pick up a clue as to Nolan’s whereabouts. He was in the swamp.