Erin's Rebel (8 page)

After she dabbed her eyes and blew her nose, she drew a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “I’m sorry.” She stood, extracting herself from his arms. “I don’t even know you.”

He rose to face her. “It was my pleasure, ma’am. I just wish you’d tell me what’s wrong.”

She smiled at him. “I suppose you’d fix my problem if you could.” Saying nothing more, she bit her lower lip drawing his gaze to her generous mouth. Much time had passed since he’d felt a woman’s kiss, other than the perfunctory kisses bestowed by his female relatives. Despite the urging of his brain to leave, he leaned toward her. His lips touched hers, tentatively at first, then when she didn’t protest or pull away, he deepened the kiss and devoured her sweet taste. She tasted of apples and cinnamon mixed with salty tears. She’d likely been helping Mrs. Malone with the baking. His thumbs brushed the wetness from her cheeks.

Her arms circled his neck, pulling him closer. He sighed, relishing her womanly softness as she leaned against him. No. He couldn’t do this. Not with her. He removed himself from her embrace. “Begging your pardon, ma’am. I shouldn’t be here.”

She frowned. Her lips parted, but she didn’t speak.

“I’d best be going now.” He stepped outside and left without looking back. What had he been thinking? This woman would bring him nothing but trouble.

Chapter Nine

A week later, after traveling north with the army, Erin unpacked her supplies and prepared for the onslaught of men with shirts in need of laundering. Every morning when she woke, she hoped she’d find herself in her city apartment in a soft bed complete with air conditioning, running water, a stocked refrigerator, and a microwave.

Since that hadn’t happened, she had no choice but to come along with the troops, for she had nowhere else to go. Also, being in Pennsylvania, she now felt closer to home. Her only trepidation was they were now camped north of Gettysburg. The thought of being involved in a bloody battle over the next few days scared the shit out of her.

The trip had been grueling. She’d traveled in a wagon over bumpy, rural roads. When she couldn’t take the jostling any more, she’d get out and walk. At least, the trip had given her a break from the constant laundering. She swore she’d grown new muscles she hadn’t known she had, and her hands were cracked and sore.

On those occasions when out of sheer exhaustion she’d fallen asleep in the wagon, she dreamed of highways. Smooth, paved highways where she drove along at high speed on pneumatic rubber tires. A bump would jolt her out of her dream, and she’d find herself still in the nineteenth century. Then despair kicked in. Would she ever get back to her old life?

Captain Montgomery remained a big piece of the puzzle. Before Grandma Rose had died, she’d told Erin she would find her destiny in the past. But it hadn’t made any sense, so she had chalked it up to an old woman’s ramblings. But now that she was in the past, she realized what Grandma told her was important. Maybe she had to accomplish something to get back to her own time. But what?

Although Will Montgomery had been avoiding her, her heart still raced every time she caught a glimpse of him. After he’d kissed her, she knew without a doubt she’d come back in time for him. She brushed a finger over her lips as the memory of that kiss made her crave more.

Why did she have to fix things here? What connection did she and Will have?

Banishing her troubled thoughts, she put her tent in order with the help of a few women and young privates. She sat on a camp stool under the shade of her canvas tarp to take a breather. While she fanned herself, enjoying the light summer breeze, an elderly woman caught her attention. She must be a visitor from town.

The woman was small, almost birdlike, and well-dressed. She wore oval spectacles perched on her long nose and carried a black parasol trimmed in lace and a dainty crocheted bag that dangled from the waistband of her skirt.

Erin watched, too tired to move. The woman studied her, then approached. She opened her mouth, revealing a gaped-tooth smile.

“Can I help you?” Erin asked.

“I’m looking for Mrs. O’Connell.” Her voice was high and thin.

“That’s me.”

The woman leaned in close. Erin caught the aroma of roses. “Your contact will meet you tonight.”

“My what?”

“Shh.” The woman glanced from side to side. “Someone might hear.”

“Are you sure you’ve got the right person?” Erin frowned.

“You
are
the laundress from Ireland?” She waited as Erin digested the question.

Her reporter’s instincts kicked in. Erin O’Connell had been a Yankee spy. Best to play along and see what information she could obtain.

“Where am I to meet this person?”

The woman’s brow furrowed. “You don’t sound like you’re from Ireland.”

“I’ve done a lot of traveling.”

Looking doubtful, the woman continued, “To the west of camp...just outside. You’ll have to avoid being seen by the pickets.”

Erin nodded as if all this was routine. “How will I know him?”

“He’ll call you by the name
Robin
.”

“All right.”

“And you’re to bring the book with you.”

“Book?”

“We need any new information you’ve gathered,” the woman stated matter-of-factly.

“I lost it,” Erin lied, “on the trip north.”

By the way the woman’s eyebrows drew together, Erin feared she was in for a scolding. “You mustn’t be so careless, dear, the Reb’s wouldn’t hesitate to send you to prison, or worse, if you’re caught.”

Erin nodded. “I’ll be careful in the future, but what should I do for now?”

“I’ll inform your contact. If he still wants to see you, he’ll get a message to you.”

Without another word, the woman hobbled off.

Erin’s thoughts went to the journal still inside her trunk. Was that the book they wanted? Nothing of consequence in there would help the Yankees, and she wasn’t sure she’d want to give it to them, anyway.

She was curious about who this contact was, but did she really want to get herself involved in espionage? The fear of being caught and locked up in a Confederate prison was all the deterrent she needed. She had enough problems.

****

July 3, 1863

Will gazed across the field toward the rise called Cemetery Ridge. Yankee troops waited on the opposite side of the open expanse. His regiment had been ordered to march through the field and attack the Federal line. But they would come under fire long before they reached the other side.

After two days of fighting, he and his men were hot, hungry, and tired. He surveyed his company where they stood alongside the rest of the regiment. A few leafed through small copies of the Bible, while others whispered prayers. He frowned when he caught sight of Sergeant Wagner weaving his way toward the rear.

“Sergeant!” Will called. “Resume your post.”

“Yes, sir.” Wagner moved to his spot up front. He glared at Will but said no more.

Kevin Donnelly, the young Irishman for whom his sister had set her cap, was among the group whispering prayers. Will watched Donnelly make the sign of the cross.

Will’s thoughts turned to Amanda. He’d promised his daughter he’d return. An image of the child’s auburn plaits and round, baby-face flashed through his mind. She’d already lost her mother. He had to survive.

Confederate cannon fire jolted him from his reminiscence of home. The troops waited within the tree line for another hour, the shade providing some respite from the hot, humid summer day.

While the cannonade continued, his thoughts drifted to Erin O’Connell. He still felt guilty for kissing the laundress, but her vulnerability and pain brought his protective instincts to the fore. And, Lord help him, Mrs. O’Connell was a beautiful woman. If he survived this battle and wasn’t wounded badly enough to be discharged from the army, he’d have to decide what his feelings were regarding her.

After the cannons quieted, the order, “Forward. March,” echoed down the line. Raising his sword, he repeated the order as he led his men into the open field. They marched part of the way in silence long after the drums and cheers of the artillery men faded behind them. At the midway point, the explosions of Yankee shells and men screaming in pain lent a nightmarish quality to the long trek.

Stoically, he continued forward, although his insides quaked. Men fell to the ground around him. He urged on the soldiers still with him. When they drew near the Yankee troops, blue forage caps and kepis appeared above the rock barricade the Yankees erected. His thoughts again drifted to Erin O’Connell. Her soft, ripe body and sensual lips. He shook his head. Anne. If he was about to die, he should be thinking of Anne, but he had trouble recalling an image of her face.

As the Yankees rose, preparing to fire, he shifted his sword to his left hand and grasped the butt of his pistol. Adrenaline surged as he shouted to his men to fire at will. He fired off a few shots himself before something hard slammed into his side. Knocked flat on his back, he stared at the smoke-filled sky. Erin O’Connell’s face appeared before everything around him went black.

Chapter Ten

A sharp pain shot up Erin’s left side. She gasped and gripped the edge of the table to keep from falling.

Brigid appeared behind her. “Are you feeling all right?”

Erin ran her hand down the side of her bodice. The pain had stopped. “I’m fine.”

Wounded men lay around her on every available cot and on the floor, wherever there was room. The stewards had begun laying them outside on the grass.

She raced from man to man, keeping herself busy to avoid thinking about Captain Montgomery. But something had happened to him, of that she was sure. Since she could do nothing about it, she concentrated on comforting and helping whomever she could. If she could beam these soldiers to a twenty-first century hospital, so many who were dying could be saved.

Erin was surrounded by moans, screams, hushed voices trying to comfort, and shouted orders from surgeons. Her senses reeled. The sight of so much blood as well as the sickening coppery smell, threatened to send her running from the scene of all this carnage.

Although she tried not to worry about the captain, she checked every new arrival. He could be lying out on the field dead. What would she do if he died? She wondered if she’d return to her own time if that happened, or be trapped here forever. After sharing that kiss with him, however brief it had been, she couldn’t stand the thought of his being hurt.

“I need a nurse over here!” Doc called.

Erin looked up to find him motioning to her. She gulped and raced over to where he stood. Another surgeon had his hands clamped on an unconscious man’s leg where he lay on a wooden door propped between two crates the doctors used for surgery.

“What do you want me to do?” she asked.

Doc looked her in the eye. “We’ve got to take this man’s leg. Hold his artery so he doesn’t bleed to death.”

She nodded but felt the blood drain from her face.

“Can you do it?” His frown bored into her.