Matthew gave a crisp salute. “Yes, sir.” At least he would remain on duty. He made his way slowly through the lines of tents, thankful that their ragtag company had found another of Forrest’s regiments to join forces with. Most of the army had moved up into Tennessee or had gone east to Alabama to hold off the Feds, and few remained deep within Mississippi.
The more he walked, the more the leg began to protest. He’d made it almost to the post command when he heard his name called from off to his left.
“Over here, Daniels.”
O’Malley hurried to his side and grasped his elbow. “There’s a creek right down here. How about you and I go refill our canteens?”
Matthew followed him a short distance into the tree cover, refusing O’Malley’s offer to shoulder part of Matthew’s weight. O’Malley knelt beside a small, muddy stream of and busied himself unscrewing his canteen. Matthew was unsure what he should do, since he was not carrying his canteen. Besides, he was afraid to put himself in a squatted position, lest he find himself stuck in it. But his leg was throbbing, and he knew water was not the only reason for this particular location. He put his back to a young pine and allowed himself to slide down to the earth with a soft grunt.
“Do you want to get your brother back?” O’Malley said over his shoulder.
Matthew picked some of the dried blood from around his nails. “I do. But you know they haven’t been exchanging prisoners. Unless you plan on helping me break him out, I don’t know what you think you are going to do about it.”
“You are too narrow in your thinking, my friend.”
Matthew’s brows drew together. “What do you have in mind?”
“I have friends, connections. There’s a group of us—a secret organization, if you will—that has plans. Big plans.” He studied Matthew, as if deciding if he should continue. Matthew lifted his brows to encourage him along. O’Malley narrowed his lids. “Do you want to be a part of something big? Something that will change the tide of this war and put your name in history?”
“I only want my brother back.”
“To get your brother back, you need leverage.”
“And you have that kind of leverage?”
“We will.”
“And why help me?”
“Frankly, because we could use someone like you. A man of your size can come in handy. I’m taking a big risk including you on this, Daniels. Don’t let me down. You won’t need to do much, and in exchange I will be sure your brother is among the first released.”
Matthew eyed him cautiously. What could it hurt to hear him out? “I’m listening.”
O’Malley glanced around and lowered his voice. “I know how to get your brother back,” he whispered. “All we have to do is kidnap their president.”
“She had better keep out of any of his wild schemes; they are barely practical, and he who undertakes them must perish.”
Annabelle carried two bowls of collards and two slices of cornbread on a wooden platter into the library. Despite Grandfather’s grumbling about her continuing to feed the abandoned soldiers, he hadn’t yet kicked them out of the house.
She swished into the room, her patched skirt skimming floorboards that needed to be swept and stirring up little bits of dust. Both soldiers were awake and seemed to be in a fair mood. A deck of worn playing cards was strewn between them on the floor. Jack held several fanned out in his only hand, and Annabelle wondered how he could even play with such a disadvantage.
“I bet Miss Ross could even beat you,” Monroe taunted as Annabelle stepped closer to their game.
Jack frowned. “Women don’t play cards.”
Monroe rolled his eyes. “Precisely.”
Jack Hanson was a gentle man, but not one who seemed to be too quick in his wits. Annabelle smiled down at him. “Don’t pay him any mind, Private Hanson.”
“I told you to call me Jack, Miss Ross.”
She inclined her head. “So you have. Now, here, I have brought you fellows some supper.”
They sat cross-legged on the floor and accepted her paltry offerings with nods of gratitude. She sank down on her knees beside them and arranged her skirts slowly. She tried to assess the stump at the end of Jack’s leg without him noticing, keeping her eyes low as if she were studying her dress. The bandage seemed to still be clean, despite how much he’d been moving about lately. That probably meant it was nearly scarred over and would no longer continue to seep. That was good, because she had little medical experience an even fewer fresh supplies. If it got bad, there would be nothing she could really do for him. Beyond feeding them, changing a few dressings, and keeping them as comfortable as she could, she wasn’t really much of a nurse.
She glanced up to see that both men stared at her, curiosity crinkling Jack’s brow and suspicion lighting Monroe’s.
“So….” she said.” Do you think anyone will be returning to collect you and return you to your units any time soon?”
Monroe shoveled in a spoonful of greens, chewed them slowly, and swallowed before speaking. “No, ma’am. I wouldn’t reckon they would. I think it’s more likely that we will have to return on our own.”
“You plan on heading out?” Jack asked.
Monroe nodded. “My fever has broken, and it isn’t right to continue to take advantage of Miss Ross’s hospitality. It is my duty to return to the army as soon as I am able. I will find the nearest battalion and present my papers there.”
Jack shrugged. “I was hoping to go home.”
Monroe looked at him as though he were soft in the head. He opened his mouth, but Annabelle interrupted before he could cause any damage. “I am certain you would be granted an honorable medical discharge, Private Hanson. Wouldn’t you agree, Lieutenant Monroe?”
Monroe caught her eye and then nodded. “Oh, yes, of course you would. No dishonor in medical discharge. You have done your duty well, soldier.”
Private Hanson gave her a grin that quickly faltered. “Do you think you could send a letter to my ma for me? I don’t reckon I’ll make it back to the delta on my own. Some of my kin are going to have to come get me.”
She nearly reached out to pat his arm but thought better of it. “Of course I will. And you can stay as long as you need.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll make it up to you somehow, I promise.” He finished the last of his meal, scraping the juices from the bowl with the crumbling cornbread, and then hefted himself up onto his crutch. “If you will excuse me, I need to head out back.”
Annabelle rose to her feet. “Here, let me help you.”
He shook his head. “No, ma’am. I can do it. I don’t need a lady to escort me to do such business.” His face turned red.
Annabelle caught herself. Did he not know that she had assisted with changing men’s soiled clothing when they were too weak to leave their beds? She opened her mouth to protest, but she could tell his wounded pride required she let him be. “Oh, of course. Forgive me.”
He shot her a lopsided smile and hobbled toward the door. She watched him make his way out and then turned to see Monroe studying her.
“I’ll need that paper now, Miss Ross.”
She lifted her chin slightly and squared her shoulders. “I am prepared to trade you for it.”
“What do I possibly have that you would require?”
“A uniform.”
A look of surprise washed over his angular face, followed by confusion. “What? What would a woman want with my uniform?”
She scooted closer to him than was proper, her words coming out in a rushed whisper. “I need your help. I have to find my uncle. He is in the Northern Virginian.” Monroe frowned, and she knew a rejection formed on his pursing lips. She hurried on before he had a chance to stop her. “Please, it is imperative I reach my uncle immediately. I have sent two letters and have heard nothing. I know you soldiers must have a better, faster way to communicate than by the regular post. All I ask is that you find a way for me to contact my uncle. I will handle the
rest on my own.”
“The rest?”
“That is not of your concern.”
“Why is it so important that you find him?”
“That is not necessary for you to know.”
Monroe crossed his arms and settled his frame against the wall near the hearth, putting distance between them. “Then we do not have a deal.”
Heat flared in her face. “I must speak to him on a personal matter.”
“Why?”
Infuriating man! “Because I require his help!”
“And why can your grandfather not give you the aid you desire?”
She forced her teeth to unclench. “My grandfather is requiring something of me I do not wish to do. I must appeal to the only other living male in my family who can help me.”
Monroe leaned forward with what looked to be genuine concern. “What is your grandfather requiring of you?”
“He is forcing me to marry.”
Monroe heaved a sigh and leaned back again. “That is no monumental disaster, Miss Ross. He is likely only trying to secure your future. It is not an uncommon thing for a woman to enter an arranged marriage.”
“To her own uncle?” she snapped, immediately regretting the words that shot through her lips without consent.
Monroe’s eyes widened and then quickly narrowed with his deepening frown. “I do not understand. You wish to run to your uncle to inform him your grandfather plans to attempt to place the two of you into incest?”
She let out an exasperated sigh, looking around to see if anyone were nearby, but the sound of Jack’s crutch thudding on the floor gave no evidence of his return, and Grandfather should be asleep. She lowered her voice anyway. “No. The uncle whose assistance I require is my true uncle, my father’s brother. Andrew is not really my uncle, but my stepmother’s brother. Though I call him Grandfather, his family is not related to me through blood.”
Monroe studied her a moment. “And I am assuming this Andrew would be your grandfather’s heir.”
She snorted. “If he had anything of his own to leave an heir. He’s had his claws in Rosswood since he first arrived.”
“I see.”
Did he? A small droplet of hope began to form. She looked at him expectantly, afraid to push while he contemplated.
“Then I agree it is necessary you inform your blood relative that his family lands are in danger. I would imagine they are his by right, as your father had no sons.”
Her mouth unhinged, but she quickly snapped it closed, having to form words through clenched teeth. “Rosswood belongs to me and to the man I choose to wed. My father’s will states it is in trust to Uncle Michael until I wed, at which point it belongs to me and my husband. Grandfather has taken responsibility of the trust, since he was here and I could not get in contact with Uncle Michael after my father’s death.”
“I see your dilemma, Miss Ross. And I do think it is right that your uncle be made aware of the intentions against him. I will see if I can get a message out to him.”
She heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank you. We can leave tomorrow.”
He lifted his brows. “I thought you wanted me to send a messenger. What is this about leaving?”
She dropped her eyes. Should she feel so ashamed to admit that she was too cowardly to stay? It didn’t matter. “I do not have the time to hope a message reaches him. Andrew arrives this week, and Grandfather intends to see me wed and with child the moment he does.”
“An event you do not wish to be present for.”
“Precisely.”
“I see,” he said again, stroking the beard on his chin. “Then I have a proposition for you.”
“Oh?”
“You will take the message you already possess and deliver it to my friend for me. Once I know that it is safely in his hands, I will personally escort you to my family lands, where you can wait with my mother and sisters for a response from your uncle. That way, you will not be here for the wedding you don’t seem to think you can refuse to participate in.”
It was bold, but it could provide a solution to a problem she hadn’t found a way around. She’d thought about going to town and staying with her friend Molly, or perhaps asking Mr. Black for help. She didn’t doubt they would be willing to aid her. But, she also knew that when Grandfather came for her, neither would be able to withstand his wrath or keep him from hauling her home. The people in town would likely agree with Grandfather that it would be better she wed and secure a family hold on the land. Why would any of them bat an eye at her desire to choose her own husband? Such a luxury was nothing but frivolity.
But how could she trust this man? He was little more than a stranger. How did she know there would be a safe place with his mother? What if he were lying just to get her to do what he wanted?
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why would you want me to deliver your message? I’m a woman.”
“And that, for once, may actually be an advantage and not a hindrance.”
“I do not understand.”
“Who will expect a woman to deliver it?” he said softly.
The embers in the fire gave off a small glow, the room descending into evening’s shadows. Annabelle felt an unexpected thrill scurry up her spine. She leaned closer to the lieutenant, close enough she could smell that she needed to wash his uniform again, and whispered, “You wish it delivered in secret?”
Monroe stared at her as if she were dense, and she quickly tried to right herself before he decided she were not up to the task.
She leaned back and waved a hand. “Of course, you would want a coded spy note delivered without notice.”
He said nothing, and Annabelle sat back to consider. What were her options? If she took this opportunity to deliver the message and get into a military camp, perhaps she could persuade an officer to send an army messenger with word to her uncle. They might even be so pleased she’d delivered them their spy information they would be willing to help her in return. At least it would give her another option if Monroe did not hold to his end of the deal.
Annabelle pulled her lower lip through her teeth and stoked the embers in the hearth. Was she really considering dallying in something this dangerous? Something that might help the South and perhaps prolong the war? All because she didn’t want to be wed to a man she didn’t like? The answer was glaringly obvious. Yes. Heaven help her.
She turned back to Monroe. Could she trust him? Probably not. He studied her with a steady gaze, likely wondering if she were worth the trouble. Why not deliver it himself? The question nagged her, but she pushed it away. She’d heard of women spies running valued information. They took a big risk, but they were valued. Maybe, if the camp she sought were close enough to Rosswood, the Confederates would be so grateful for her information they might even send a few soldiers back with her for protection while she waited on word from Uncle Michael. It was a thin and foolish hope, but it was something. Somehow, she feared that even if she refused to wed Andrew, he would force her into consummation whether she’d spoken vows or not.
The lieutenant seemed honorable enough, but he was still physically weak, and she didn’t think Andrew would allow either of the two soldiers to stay once he arrived. They wouldn’t be able to help her.
She chewed on her lip and glanced at Monroe again, who seemed content to let her contemplate. Well, it seemed finding the army was her best hope. Even if they wouldn’t send soldiers back with her, at least then she might have two different messengers sent out to find Uncle Michael.
Decision made, she dipped her chin. She would not go with Monroe to his family’s land, but he didn’t need to know that now. Let him think she wanted his offer. She just needed him to escort her to where the army was camped, since it would be too dangerous on her own. Once she got to the Confederates, she would leave him to his plans and follow her own.
“Very well,” she said, her voice disrupting the silence and sounding more resolved than she expected. “I will play spy with you. I shall find a
place to store the message where men would think not to look, should we be stopped and searched.”
His eyes dropped down her figure, and his eyebrows began to climb. She crossed her arms over her chest and tried to sound confident despite the heat burning in her ears. “Not there, Lieutenant Monroe. I shall roll it up in my hair or something.”
“Oh.” He dropped his eyes.
The rear door slammed, and they both looked toward the door. The steady thumping of Jack’s crutch reverberated down the hall.
“I will rouse you early. We’ll be gone by first light,” she whispered.
He gave a solemn nod. “And then, perhaps we shall see what sort of tenacity the lady of Rosswood keeps hidden under those shy eyes and that deceptively humble manner.”
She let a smile tug one side of her mouth into a curve. “So you shall.”
“It would serve our turn quite well to capture the despot, and keep him for a while in Libby Prison. I reckon the South would then gain the day.”
Matthew stared at David O’Malley as if he’d suddenly sprouted a second head. “Their president? As in Lincoln?
“Keep your voice down, man. Do you want to be heard?” O’Malley snapped, glancing around their place by the creek.
Matthew lowered his voice. “Look, O’Malley, I don’t know what kind of operation you think you have going, but –”
O’Malley held up his hand and interrupted, “There’s more going on here than you realize, Daniels. We have fingers in everyone’s pie.”
He spoke the words softly but with such conviction that it gave Matthew pause. “What do you propose to do?”
“We have a solid plan, don’t worry.”
Matthew’s ire rose, and he curled his cold fingers into a fist. “And what is the plan?”
“I am not at liberty to involve you in that just now.”
Matthew clenched his jaw. The man was an idiot if he thought that Matthew would just follow along blindly. “You don’t know, do you?”
O’Malley swept a hand through his hair. “Look, there are certain precautions that have to be made. We don’t all know every bit of the arrangement. What if we were found out? Then everything could be ruined by one fellow with no gate on his mouth.”
The Liberator Series Box Set: Christian Historical Civil War Novels Page 4