Authors: Susan Macatee
“Why do you say that?”
“Anne was the perfect society wife, as my mother is to Papa. But you have spirit. You’re what Will needs. And I’ve never seen him so frantic and determined to go after you when you’d gone missing.” She clasped her hands. “He was like a knight in shining armor, going to rescue his lady. All he could focus on was finding you, no matter what the cost.”
Jenny’s words chilled Erin to the bone. Mrs. Driscoll had been right. She and Will were meant to be together.
****
Although Doc warned him not to put pressure on his broken leg, Will couldn’t resist stretching his limits every chance he got. Managing the crutches got easier each day. He even found he could assist Mrs. Claymore and her daughter. It felt good to be useful again.
The pain in his leg was gone, replaced by a maddening itch. Doc assured him the splint would be coming off soon.
“But you won’t be running off anywhere at least until the end of the summer. You’ll need the crutches at first, then a cane, and you’ll likely have a limp for a while.”
Will wasn’t discouraged by his own progress, but news from the warfront was another matter. With Petersburg still surrounded, residents ran low on supplies and found it nearly impossible to bring anything into the town. The Yankees were starving them into submission.
His thoughts drifted to Erin’s words the last time he’d seen her.
The South will lose
. It seemed that prophesy
would
come true. He saw no way for the Confederacy to win.
****
Will sat in the parlor rolling bandages, his leg propped on a stool when Doc found him hours later.
“I see the ladies put you to work.” Doc took a seat in the rocking chair across from Will.
Smiling, Will said, “It was the least I could do.”
Doc rocked back and forth.
Will scowled. “Now, when is this damned splint coming off?”
“Tomorrow.”
“You’re serious?” Hope surged through him.
Doc nodded. “High time it came off.”
Sighing in relief, he said, “Thanks, Doc, I’ll be looking forward to it.”
“Mind what I told you.”
“I know, I know. I promise to take it easy. You have my word.” He smiled. “I’m not all that anxious to go back to the trenches, anyhow.”
Doc’s jaw tightened. “The Yankees will break through, and it will be all over for us.”
Will said nothing when Doc rose and left the room. There was nothing
to
say.
****
Will woke to Jenny Claymore’s voice. She hummed,
Rock of Ages
. His eyelids felt heavy and gummy, and his head throbbed when he tried to focus on the girl.
She carried a towel and basin filled with water. Setting it on the table beside his bunk, she said, “Thought you’d like to wash up before breakfast.”
“Breakfast?” he croaked.
“Yes, Momma’s making hoecakes. We still have a small reserve of flour left, and I churned up some fresh butter.”
The thought of food made him queasy.
“Are you all right, Captain? You look flushed.”
“I...” He struggled to sit up but couldn’t rise from his prone position. “I don’t feel well.”
The young woman reached out and placed her hand against his forehead, her palm smooth and cool. Her eyes widened. “You’re burning up. I’ll get Doc.”
Sinking back on the bunk, Will found it impossible to focus. The room faded, he was back in the trenches. Explosions screamed all around him. The corporal lay at his feet. He bent down to tend him, but his face had changed.
His brother’s face stared back at him. Glancing around, he realized he wasn’t in the ditch, but in a cornfield. This was Antietam. They’d mowed down the Yankees in the cornfield, but Sam...
“Sam, no!” He reached for his younger brother. Will had promised to protect Sam, who’d just turned eighteen when the war started. Now he lay so still with a gaping, bloody hole in his chest.
“Sam,” he groaned.
“Will.” Doc’s voice cut through his dream, or had it been a vision?
“What’s happening?” Will asked.
“You’ve got a fever. We need to cool you down.”
“Sam,” Will said.
“Who?” Doc asked.
“I couldn’t save him. Or Anne.”
“He’s delirious.” Doc’s voice sounded far away, like he was speaking from the end of a long corridor.
Cool towels pressed against his face and chest. He couldn’t focus on anything. His hearing went in and out.
I’m dying
. He’d never have the chance to see Erin again. He had to tell her...what? Doc hovered over him, and Will reached out, clasping his hand. “Be honest with me, Doc. Am I dying?”
“Not if I can help it,” Doc answered. “You likely developed an infection.”
“The splint...”
“I’ll take that off after I get you cooled down some.”
“I need you to do something for me.”
“What do you need?”
“I want you to find Erin and tell her I’ll always love her.”
Doc’s brow furrowed. “You can do that yourself.”
“But if I don’t make it...”
“I’m not losing you now. Not like this.”
Will tried to say more, needed to, but he couldn’t form any words. His vision blurred until all he saw were shapes hovering over him.
His hearing dimmed. His senses shut down.
He was dying
.
Chapter Thirty-six
After what had seemed an endless ride over bumpy, rural roads, Erin and Brody arrived near the outskirts of Petersburg. Their press passes got them into a Union camp a few miles north-west of the town. The reverberations of cannon fire shook the ground reminding Erin of her harrowing stay at Gettysburg.
“Ever been to a war zone?” she asked Brody.
“No, ma’am,” he answered, distracted by a group of Federal soldiers passing by.
“C’mon.” Erin pointed toward a large wall-tent with a Pennsylvania State flag stuck in the ground beside it. “There should be an officer who can help us in there.”
They approached the tent entrance where a young yellow-haired soldier stood at attention.
“Who’s in this tent?” Erin asked.
“Colonel Thompson, ma’am.”
“We need to see him.” She glanced over her shoulder at Brody, who fidgeted behind her.
“May I ask what this is in regard to, ma’am?”
Erin pulled out the passes she’d obtained from Mr. Radley. “We’re war correspondents. We need to get into Petersburg.”
The young soldier blinked. “Never seen a woman war correspondent before.”
“Nevertheless, I am one. Our editor from the
York Dispatch
sent us to cover the Petersburg front. Now, can we see the colonel?”
“Ah...” The soldier seemed nonplussed. “I’ll ask for you, ma’am.” He pulled back the flap and disappeared inside the tent.
She turned to Brody. “He has to let us at least see him.”
Brody nodded, eyeing the soldiers milling around them.
The young soldier returned. “The colonel will see you.”
“Thank you.” Erin motioned for Brody to follow her inside.
Colonel Thompson sat behind a scarred, wooden table with official looking papers scattered across the top. They were ushered before the thin, balding man. He scratched at his sparse brown hair and studied them with clear hazel eyes.
He removed the cigar from his mouth. “And you are...?”
“Mrs. Erin O’Connell.” She gestured toward Brody. “And my associate, Mr. Nathan Brody.”
Thompson took another puff on his cigar and raked his gaze over her. He glanced at Brody. “You’re both reporters?”
“War correspondents.”
Thompson sighed. “An unusual pair, to say the least. What can I do for you?”
Erin leaned forward, planting her palms on the table. “We need to get into Petersburg.”
“Impossible.” Thompson shook his head. “You can’t get past the Reb line.”
“Why not?” She was not about to be denied.
“In case you haven’t noticed, ma’am, there’s a war on.”
“You don’t have to be sarcastic with me, Colonel. The war’s the reason we’re here.”
“We can’t get anyone across enemy lines.” He scowled. “You can do your reporting from the Federal camps.”
“That won’t be satisfactory.”
“It’ll have to be,” the colonel said, irritation in his voice. “I can have a military escort take you to the front Federal lines, but that’s all I can do. And, frankly, I wouldn’t advise even that.”
Defeated, she nodded. “I guess we’ll have to accept your offer, Colonel.”
When they left the colonel’s tent, Erin turned to Brody. “This isn’t what I’d hoped for, but once we’re at the front, maybe we can find a way to get into Petersburg.”
The young man nodded but seemed uncertain. No doubt, he wondered why she was so hell-bent on getting inside. Well, he didn’t need to know her real reason. As long as he didn’t object or try to stop her, she’d take him along. Otherwise, she’d ditch him and get past the Confederate lines by herself.
****
Erin held her hands over her ears to block the noise of cannon blasts as she and Brody approached the front. Federal soldiers had dug trenches that faced Petersburg. Between them and the town, the Confederates had also dug trenches. No wonder the colonel had said it was impossible for anyone to get inside.
But Will was in there. She had to find a way to get to him and, damn it, she would.
The commanding officer’s tent sat well back from the trenches to keep him out of the range of enemy cannon fire. A corporal escorted the pair into the tent, but the colonel was out, likely up at the line.
The corporal invited Erin and Brody to have a seat and wait for the officer to return. Once they’d been left alone, she sighed. “I hope this guy can help us.”
“Pardon me, ma’am?” Brody seemed puzzled.
“The colonel,” she corrected. “I hope he can get us into Petersburg.”
He nodded but still seemed uneasy. “I still don’t understand why we need to report from the enemy side. This,” he said, gesturing around them, “seems to be the ideal location for our story.”
Erin didn’t have an answer for that. He was right. Her request to get inside Petersburg must seem unreasonable to him. But she’d only come here for one reason—to find Will.