Table of Contents
Cole’s Promise
Copyright
Praise for Susan Macatee
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
A word about the author...
Thank you for purchasing this Wild Rose Press publication.
Cole’s Promise
by
Susan Macatee
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Cole’s Promise
COPYRIGHT © 2012 by Susan Macatee
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by Tina Lynn Stout
The Wild Rose Press
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First American Miniature Rose Edition, 2012
Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-112-8
Published in the United States of America
Praise for Susan Macatee
ERIN’S REBEL
Finalist, Ancient City Romance Authors
2010 Reader’s Choice Award, paranormal category
~*~
“I love historical romances and Susan Macatee did a beautiful job with this one.”
~Night Owl Reviews (4.5 Hearts)
“I loved the author’s gentle hand with detail, her convincing touch with romance, and the twists and turns that she creates before a thoroughly satisfying ending…This book’s well worth keeping on my shelf.”
~WRDF Reviews
“Recommended read for paranormal and historical romance readers or if you simply enjoy a good love story.”
~ParaNormal Romance
“ERIN’S REBEL is rich in history and mystery.”
~TwoLips Reviews (4 Lips)
~~*~~
CONFEDERATE ROSE
1st place, First Coast Romance Writers
2010 Beacon Contest for Published Authors,
historical category
~*~
2nd place, 2010 New England Reader’s
Choice Bean Pot Award, historical category
~*~
“If you like romance wrapped in the conflicts of the Civil War you will definitely enjoy this book.”
~You Gotta Read Reviews
“CONFEDERATE ROSE is a magnificent work of fiction…I highly recommend this charming historical.”
~Blue Ribbon Reviews at Romance Junkies
Dedication
In loving memory of my mom...
we miss you.
Chapter One
Union camp outside Frederick, Maryland
June 26, 1863
Cole Manning crouched behind a fragrant, flowering bush, the sweet, cloying smell mixing with the scent of pine. Pistol at eye level, he peered through the forest for any sign of a Confederate patrol. His squad stayed behind him, out of sight, their rifles on the ground by their sides, per his order.
Strains of heavy breathing surrounded him. He’d been ordered to lead his men on patrol around the camp perimeter for any sign of Rebel infiltrators.
After a short glance back to assure his men were ready, he turned back, squinting in the shaft of moonlight filtering through the tops of the trees. Other than the hoot of owls, the silence unnerved him. He patted his chest in the spot where his inner pocket held a tintype of his best girl, Hannah. She’d given it to him as a token to carry when he’d joined the Union army. Each night by candlelight, in the privacy of his tent, he’d studied the photo with the intentions of proposing when he returned. Thoughts of the lovely Hannah and their future life together kept his spirits from sagging even when he feared he could no longer function.
A shout echoed through the woods, tightening his grip on the revolver. His head swiveled, trying to locate the source of the sound.
“Sir,” one of the men shouted.
Cole turned back to catch the dim form of Corporal Hanson in the filtered light. He pointed a long finger ahead. “Behind the trees.”
A line of shadows emerged through the tree line opposite their position. Cole narrowed his gaze. As the shapes passed through the open field beyond the trees and brush, the full moon enabled Cole to make out the color of butternut and gray. A Rebel patrol.
He held up a hand as a signal to the men crouched behind him. “Hold until I yell fire.”
A hushed chorus of “Yes, sir,” sounded. He held his breath waiting for the patrol to move closer. He needed to see how many Confederates edged toward him and his men so he could plan their attack or escape, if necessary.
Tension built as the patrol edged forward. Beside Cole, a very young private, Upwood—he believed his name was—lifted his rifle, his fingers twitching on the barrel and trigger.
“Be steady, private,” Cole ordered.
The private nodded and licked his lips.
The scent of pine, spring flowers, and sweat mingled as Cole waited out the Rebels, who seemed unaware of the Union patrol directly in front of their position.
“Lieutenant,” a voice beside him whispered. “Should we get our rifles at the ready?”
Sergeant Mallory had crept up on his elbows to voice the question.
Cole nodded. “Get everyone at the ready. When I give the order to fire, stand and shoot. We’ll mow them down before they have a chance to blink.”
“Yes, sir.” The sergeant crept back to relay Cole’s orders.
He measured the enemy’s position in yards, ticking them off in his head. He wanted them close so they’d not have a chance to recover in time to fire back. After a brief glimpse to the rear to be sure the men had their rifles in position, he took a deep breath.
“Fire!” he yelled. He stood and shot a very surprised Rebel.
His men fired from behind, and five more Rebs fell.
“Retreat!” a big man in his line of sight ordered. The Rebel patrol backed away, then turned and fled.
“Should we go after them, sir?” the sergeant asked.
Cole shook his head. “Not for now.” He pointed to the prone Rebels in front of them. “Get someone to check on them. Are any of our own men hurt?”
“A few minor injuries. I’ll have one of the corporals check on them.” He summoned two privates. “Check those Rebs to see if they’re alive and get their weapons.”
None of the prone Rebels had survived, and the others showed no sign of returning. Cole ordered his patrol to return to camp.
He sent the two men with minor injuries to the medical tent. One was winged in the upper arm, the other in his thigh, but both capable of walking back to camp.
He dismissed the others and staggered to his tent. The patrol had gone out after dark, now the rosy glow of dawn approached. He entered his tent and sank onto his cot. The lieutenant who shared his tent was out, likely drilling his squad.
Cole yanked a kerchief from his pack and rubbed it over his face and neck. He needed to get some food into his gullet if he was going to function. He also had to report to Captain Stevenson of their encounter in the woods.
Grabbing a strip of dried bacon from his
haversack, he chewed on it. Best to go now, then eat.
He purposely strode toward the captain’s tent but halted at the sound of a feminine laugh. Glancing at the Women’s Aid tent, he was riveted by the sight of one of the new relief workers. Although he didn’t know her name, he’d seen her a few days ago when she arrived. Her hair, worn in a tight coil at the base of her skull, was golden blond. He imagined if he fingered the strands they’d feel like silk. He’d never been close enough to catch the color of her eyes, but they appeared to be a light color and her skin a smooth ivory.
She glanced his way, full, pink lips curving up at the corners. Taken by surprise, he quickly tipped his cap and looked ahead, but the delightful vision stayed.
Unlike Hannah, the young woman’s build was petite and delicate, not full and curvy like his best girl. But he’d made a promise to Hannah before he left not to stray. He’d not allow the sight of a pretty face shake his resolve to be true.
After his briefing with the captain, he strode back to see if the aid station had any treats ready for the men. The scent of hotcakes and syrup led him straight under the fly. He scanned the women serving soldiers food but didn’t see her…whatever her name was.
He hastened to his tent to dig out his plate, before the cakes were all gone. He accepted a stack of cakes and a dollop of butter and syrup from a smiling, matronly, gray haired woman, then retreated to his tent to devour his breakfast.
On this bright and clear summer morning, the scents of foliage, cooking fires, and horseflesh drifted through the air. He straightened his uniform and, coffee mug in hand, set out to the field for mail call. He’d written Hannah over a month ago and still hadn’t received a return letter. His regiment had only been stationed here, near Frederick, Maryland, for a couple of weeks, though, so the mail likely hadn’t caught up with him.
Men already stood in line when he reached the field. The post master called names and handed mail to women volunteers to distribute to the men.
She was here. Cole caught his breath at the sight of her. He really had to get his mind on other things. Patting his pocket, he focused on Hannah. He sidled up to one of his corporals.
“I’m running a little late, I see. Did they call anything for me, yet?”
Corporal Jenson smiled. “No, sir. Didn’t hear anything for you.”
“Good.” Cole stood in line patiently waiting as names were called and women handed the men their precious mail.
“Lieutenant Cole Manning,” the baritone voice called out. Cole stepped forward and watched as the post master handed his mail to the very woman who set his heart thumping wildly.
She lifted her gaze over the group of men. He held up his hand, and she smiled and angled her way toward him.
His breath caught as she stepped to his side. Tipping his cap, he accepted two posts. Their hands briefly touched, and a jolt shot through him. “Thank you, ma’am.” A delicate scent of lilac and woman settled over him, and he found it difficult to say more.
She smiled, and her amber gaze caught his. Such beautiful eyes. He felt lost.
“Good day to you, lieutenant.” She nodded toward the letters clutched between his fingers. “Hope it’s comforting news from home.”
He studied the first post. “It’s from Hannah.” Relief surged through him.
“Hannah?” She quirked her lips.
“My best girl back home in Grantley. I plan to ask for her hand right after the war ends.”
She nodded, but her gaze appeared pained. “How wonderful! I’ll leave you to read your posts.”
“Wait.” He couldn’t allow her to leave until he’d learned her name. “I saw you in camp the other day but never got an introduction.”
“Well…” She glanced around. “It’s not entirely proper for me to introduce myself, but…” She smiled with an endearing, mischievous expression. “I’m Miss Hirsch.”
“How do you do, Miss Hirsch? Lieutenant Manning, at your service.” He tipped his cap and bowed formally.
She laughed. “Very pleased to meet you, sir.” She motioned to the mail again. “I’m sure you’re anxious to see what Hannah has to say.”
Cole followed Miss Hirsch with his gaze until she was occupied delivering mail to another soldier, then found a spot under an oak tree to read his posts.
****
Claire Hirsch was exhausted by the time she’d finished her duties distributing mail. She’d been up since the crack of dawn fetching water and stoking fires for cooking pots. She’d also spent a restless night trying to get comfortable in the small tent she shared with two other volunteers. But this was the life she’d chosen when she could no longer stand sitting at home grieving for her fiancé lost at Bull Run. She’d been making plans to marry Richard when he returned on his first furlough, but he’d never made it back.
She joined the Women’s Aid volunteer group in Philadelphia. The women spent their time knitting socks and making preserves to send to the brave soldiers, while they waited for their men to return. But after Richard’s death, Claire needed to get away, so she volunteered to serve in the field in whatever capacity she could.
She hadn’t felt for any man what she had for her late fiancé and decided she’d likely spend her life as a spinster. How could she fall in love with another man?
The lieutenant, though, set her heart fluttering with the brief touch of his hand as she handed him the letter. The first glimpse she’d had of him the other day when she’d first arrived in camp, before she knew who he was, was of a tall, handsome officer. His lean-muscled build and dark wavy hair with a light beard were nothing like Richard’s blond, clean shaven looks. But something about the officer held her interest. Of course, losing Richard as she had, she could never even think of falling for a soldier again. Just as well he had a girl waiting for him at home.
As she trudged toward her tent for a much needed respite, she caught a glimpse of Lieutenant Manning seated beneath the shade of an overspreading oak tree, his head bent over the piece of paper in his hands. A secret thrill raced up her arm at the memory of their touch. Her face heated as she stepped to a spot where she could watch the man covertly.
The smile on the lieutenant’s face turned down as he scanned the paper. He crumpled the page and threw it to the ground. Rising, he straightened his uniform and stalked off.
Shocked, Claire stood rigid. Had it been the very letter she’d handed him? The one from his best girl? She’d given him another post, so it could’ve been bad news from his folks. She longed to find him and see if he was all right, but she’d only just met the man. It wouldn’t be proper to question him about his personal correspondence.
Claire turned away and trudged to her tent.
****
Cole paced the outskirts of camp, his blood boiling. How could Hannah have done this? She’d promised to wait for him. Promised to love him forever.
Although he’d crumpled and thrown aside the hated letter, the betraying words stuck in his mind.
“Dearest Cole,
I know I promised to wait, but I met someone and fell deeply in love. He was wounded at Antietam last year and released from the army. He’s studying to be a minister and wants me to marry him and move out west where he plans to start his own church.
I’m so sorry. I know this will hurt you deeply, but I’ve got to follow my heart and hope this will release you to do the same.
I hope you won’t hate me, at least after you’ve found a new love of your own.”
Cole’s eyes burned. He hadn’t finished the letter—couldn’t stand to read her final goodbye. He hadn’t seen Hannah since his last furlough, over a year ago. But she had promised she’d wait. He’d never trust a woman’s word again.
“Cole.” The baritone voice shook him from his heated memory of the last time he’d seen Hannah.
Jake Crowley eyed him. “Bad news from home?” the lieutenant, who bunked in his tent, asked. Jake was the closest thing Cole had to a friend since he’d signed up to join the army.
Cole sighed. “My girl jilted me.” He reached into his inner pocket and extracted Hannah’s tintype, holding it out to Jake.
He took it and shook his head. “Sorry to hear that, but it’s not the end of the world.” He patted Cole’s shoulder and handed the tintype back.
Cole studied Hannah’s smooth, tranquil expression. “Reckon I won’t be needing this anymore.” He tore the photo in two and dropped the pieces to the ground.
“That’s the spirit, Cole. There are tons of women standing in line waving hankies and waiting for soldiers to return from war.” He bent his head toward Cole. “And take a look at the beauties here in camp. I’ll bet many of them don’t have a man waiting for them at home, either.”
Cole shook his head. “Don’t think I want to have anything to do with women. At least for now. Just not worth the trouble.”
Jake punched his arm. “You can try staying away from them, but I can assure you, sir, a lovely lady will likely find you and steal your heart, making you forget all about your gal back home.”
Cole grimaced. “I’m not looking to start anything other than a roll in the hay, if you get my meaning.”
Jake laughed. “You say that, my friend, but I don’t think you’d be happy without a faithful woman waiting at home.”
But as Cole returned to his tent, he swore he’d never trust any woman ever again.
Chapter Two
Claire wiped her brow as the humidity of the late June morning built. She’d been assigned to assist the camp surgeon, Captain Albert Worley, a handsome, dark-haired man with a tinge of gray at his temples. A true gentleman from York, Pennsylvania.
Mrs. Benson, her coordinator, sent her to assist in whatever manner the surgeon required. As she entered the large canvas tent, set up to house the sick and injured while in camp, a rustle of skirts caught her attention. Another woman volunteer swept past her, nearly knocking Claire off her feet.
“Oh, pardon me.” Miss Betsy Kincaid turned back, red-faced. “I didn’t mean to shove you aside, but I’m a bit late for my assignment.”
Claire eyed Betsy. Her sable-colored hair was perfectly brushed away from her face in a center part and coiled in a bun at the nape of her neck. Her dress was neat and clean, and more than a bit too dressy for work in camp. The outline of a corset cinched in her waist and pushed her bodice out in front. While Claire, of course, wore her corset for social gatherings, even while in camp, she left it aside when assigned to work.
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