“All right,” Erin said. “Just let me get my things from the cave, then we’ll go.”
Will averted his gaze. “I’m not going with you.”
“What?” She grasped his arm.
“It wouldn’t be safe. I’d bring both the Confederates and the Yankees on our backs.”
“No.” Erin shook her head. “You can’t leave me now. I came back for you.”
Will caught her gaze, then glanced at Dr. Hoffman. “Pardon us a moment, sir.” Taking her arm, he ushered her to the cave entrance. “We’d best go inside and get your things.”
She got the message he was trying to keep her quiet. But no way would she let him abandon her in this century. If she couldn’t be with him, there was no point to her having come back.
Glancing toward the cave entrance to be sure the doctor wasn’t listening, she whispered, “You’re not leaving me. You can’t go back, anyway. They’d arrest you.”
“I refuse to risk your life. I can’t just go north. I have Amanda to think of.”
Picturing the sweet little girl, she knew if she had a daughter, she’d feel the same way, but she couldn’t let him do this.
“I have to tell you something important about the future,” she said.
“You’ve already told me your future stories.”
“Not this one. And this concerns your future.”
He frowned. “Does it concern my family? Amanda?”
She shook her head. “It’s the outcome of the war.”
He swallowed but didn’t speak.
“Come Spring, Lee will surrender,” she said. “The North will win.”
****
In the end, what Erin said hadn’t mattered. Will left her, sending her with the Quaker couple and their teenage son.
After being taken to their farm in Southern Maryland, she spent the next two weeks being treated like visiting royalty while her arm healed. She’d found the journal Jake had stolen in her pack, but now that he was dead and Will believed she’d come from the future, she didn’t think it mattered anymore. The comfort she experienced at the Quaker’s farm didn’t make up for the fear Will had left her. What if she never saw him again?
Dr. Hoffman told her Captain Montgomery had asked him to get her to Pennsylvania.
“My sister runs a boardinghouse in York,” he told her. “Greta will be only too glad to put you up.”
“But how will I get there?”
“My sons will escort you.”
The Hoffmans had two sons living with them. Karl, who’d been with them the day they’d brought Erin from Virginia, was in his late teens. Another son, Franz, was in his early twenties. Both boys were well-built with tanned skin and work-roughened hands.
“Ya, you’ll have no problems with these two strong boys at your side,” Dr. Hoffman said.
“But what will I do once I get there?” she asked. “I have no money.”
“My sister will see to your needs until you find employment.”
“Employment,” she repeated. What could she do in this century? She was a journalist but wondered if women did that in this time period. The only other skill she had was washing clothes, but she didn’t look forward to making a living doing that.
It would be best to stay out of the war zone, at least until the war ended next spring. But without Will, she didn’t want to be in this century. She still had the brooch he’d given her and thought maybe she could find a way for it to send her back. Unless it only worked one way.
The next day, she packed her few things in the carpetbag the Hoffman’s had given her as a gift. Karl and Franz brought the wagon to the front of the house, while she said her goodbyes to Dr. and Mrs. Hoffman.
She took her seat behind the young men, but all she could think was they were taking her farther away from Will.
****
After two days on the road and one night in a Maryland hotel, Erin reached the Pennsylvania border, exhausted and apprehensive about what awaited her in York.
As the wagon lurched down a rural road, a patrol of soldiers, clad in the blue of the Union Army, pulled up alongside them.
Karl explained they were escorting a friend to their aunt’s in York. Erin sat calmly. She had nothing to fear from Federal soldiers, but she still felt uneasy and hoped they didn’t question her.
While she waited for the men to allow them to pass, she noted one of the soldiers, a young chestnut-haired, clean-shaven man, kept staring at her. She didn’t look directly at him, averting her face, hoping he’d take it for modesty.
Finally, just as the soldiers were about to let them go, he approached her, dipping the brim of his cap.
“Ma’am,” he said. “I believe the colonel would like to have a word with you.”
“What about?” she asked. This was just what she needed. She wanted to slip quietly into Pennsylvania unnoticed, then try to figure out what she could do to fix the mess she was in.
“Please, if you’d come with me, ma’am,” the soldier said.
Erin glanced at the Hoffman boys. They both shrugged.
After chewing on her lower lip a moment, she let the soldier assist her in alighting from the wagon. “I’ll be right back,” she assured the two young men.
She tried to hide her alarm at being singled out by a Union colonel, sure the soldier escorting her could hear her frantic heartbeat. Why the hell had this man sent for her?
He led her to a group of soldiers sunning themselves on a crop of boulders on this cold November day. A man with a dark handlebar mustache, wearing a blue coat with a set of epaulets on his shoulders, a black broad-brimmed hat and knee-high boots, rose to great her.
A broad smile revealed yellowed teeth and a sprinkling of deep wrinkles on his leather-tanned face. “Well, if it isn’t Mrs. O’Connell.” He reached for her hand. “I’m pleased to see you escaped capture by the Rebs.”
Her thoughts raced. This man obviously knew Erin O’Connell. She smiled, allowing the colonel to take her hand. He bowed over it touching his lips to her fingers.
Since he knew her, she pretended to know him. She also thought it wise to affect an Irish brogue so as not to arouse suspicions.
“Ah, me dear colonel, sure and I hope ye’ve been well.”
“Quite well, ma’am. But how has it been going with you? I feared for your safety when we received no word from you for so long. Thought the Rebs had captured you and sent you to one of their godforsaken prisons.”
“Ah, no. They never caught on to me,” she said.
“Good, good.” He nodded. “My aide tells me you’ve been heading north with two lads.”
“Aye.” She inclined her head toward the Hoffman boys. “A family friend has taken ill. I’m goin’ to spend some time with her. These lads are her nephews. They’re takin’ me to her.”
“Sorry to hear about your friend. But I’m pleased to see you well. What’s your destination?”
“York.”
“I’ll have one of my men escort you there.”
Erin shook her head. “No, ’tis not necessary.”
“I insist. There is a war on, after all. You’ll be safer with a military escort.”
This guy wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “Thank you, colonel. We need to be gettin’ on our way.” She wanted to end this conversation before she slipped up or someone else recognized her.
While they waited for the lieutenant who’d been assigned to escort them to saddle his horse, Erin settled back into the wagon with the Hoffman boys. She just wanted this journey to end so she could figure out her next move.
Chapter Thirty-one
Christmas had come and gone. Dr. Hoffman’s sister, Greta Wolff, had made Erin comfortable, as comfortable as possible, in a nineteenth century Pennsylvania boardinghouse in January. But she had to admit, it was infinitely better than a canvas tent in an army camp.
Greta took care of all her needs, although Erin insisted on pulling her weight. She helped with cooking and cleaning, washing bed sheets
and clothes. Since she’d lost Will and didn’t know if she would ever return to the future, she wanted to find a way to earn her own money.
One morning, while helping Greta with the breakfast dishes after the borders left, Erin brought up the subject of a job. “You’ve been more than kind to me, Mrs. Wolff, but I really need to strike out on my own. I need to find employment.”
After wiping her plump hands on her apron, Greta adjusted her glasses and patted her graying bun into place. “I’d be happy to help thee find something here in town,” she replied in her guttural German accent. “What skills do thee have?”
“I’m a journalist.”
Greta blinked. A puzzled frown creased her round face. “Have thee worked for a magazine or newspaper?”
“A newspaper in Philadelphia. I was a reporter.”
“Ya,” Greta replied, nodding. “We have a local paper here in town where thee can apply.”
“Good. Just give me directions, and I’ll check it out.”
****
Erin arrived in the office of the York Weekly Dispatch, outfitted in clothes she’d borrowed from one of Mrs. Wolff’s daughters. The older woman insisted she must make a good impression, and Erin’s few articles of clothing hadn’t passed muster.
She felt weighed down when she entered the glass-front structure, properly attired in a plaid burgundy day-dress, brown felt bonnet, gloves, and a cloak. Under this, she wore a small hoop, two petticoats, one over and one under the hoop. For modesty, Mrs. Wolff had told her. The woman also insisted she must wear a corset.
“No proper lady would be seen in public without her foundation,” Greta told her.
Eyeing the woman’s stout form, Erin balked. “You’re not wearing one.”
Greta laughed. “I’m just an old Hausfrau. When I go to market, I’m always sure to conceal my bodice under a cloak or shawl. And no one’s the wiser. Thee, however, are seeking outside employment. Not so easy for a woman. Thee must look thy best.”
So, Erin had gone along with the woman’s advice, even down to the corset. But it didn’t make being able to walk or sit any easier. At least, the newspaper office was only a few short blocks from the boarding house. She hadn’t had to worry about using a carriage or streetcar to get there.
She stepped inside and found a stout, balding man chomping on a cigar. He raised his brown, bushy brows in question.
“Good morning, sir,” Erin said. “I’m here to see the editor.”
His brows knitted into a frown. He raked his gaze over her, then stood. “I’m Edmund Radley, editor of the Dispatch.”
“Oh, good.” She extended her hand. “I’m here about a job. My name’s Mrs. Erin O’Connell.”
He took her hand, but instead of shaking it, he bowed over it. “Please, sit down, Mrs. O’Connell.” He motioned to a wooden chair across from his desk. “Do you have poems or perhaps a short story to submit?”
“No. I’m a reporter.”
“A reporter, you say?” He tamped out his cigar on the side of a spittoon. “This is most unusual. Where have you worked before?”
“The Philadelphia Inquirer,” Erin answered truthfully.
“Ah, I suspect you are a ladies’ feature writer, society pages, no doubt.”
“I have experience on all types of stories and can write anything you need.”
“I see.” He braced his elbows on his desk, steepling his fingers while he regarded her. “We do have a number of ladies’ activities here in town that we need someone to cover.”
She leaned forward. Was he giving her the job?
“When would you be available?”
“Right away.”
“Very well.” Reaching into his desk drawer, he pulled out a bound notebook and a pencil. He laid the pad on his desktop, then scribbled something on the first page before handing the notebook to her.
“Tomorrow afternoon at four, go to this address.”
Erin glanced at the top page where he’d written a street address. “What’s there?”
“A tea being given by the Ladies’ Relief Society. They knit socks, gloves, and scarves for our boys in blue.”
“Knit socks...?” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“Cover the tea, and write a story about it. I need it to be as sentimental and tear-jerking as you can make it. Bring the finished story back to me, and we’ll see about a job here.”
Erin smiled, although her first impulse was to slam the notebook on his desk and walk out. Ladies’ Relief...knitting socks? Swallowing a retort, she said, “I’ll do my best, sir.”
She left the newspaper office and sighed. It did beat doing laundry. And who knows, with her knowledge of twenty-first century journalism, once she got her foot in the door, she could push her way to a better position.
****
Will spent a miserable Christmas in a cold, drafty guardhouse. The worst part of his ordeal was being away from Amanda for the holidays and not knowing how Erin had fared. She didn’t belong in this century, and he’d left her to survive on her own. Although he’d briefly considered going north with her, that just wouldn’t have been possible. For one thing, he couldn’t abandon Amanda or his obligations to his home.
The worst he could expect to happen was he’d be shot or hanged, and that would put him out of his misery. He never expected to see Erin again.
The young, russet-haired corporal who’d been standing guard tapped on the door of Will’s tiny prison. “Captain,” he said, “you’ve got visitors.”
Visitors? He rose and moved to the open doorway, peering out. The corporal stood on one side, while on the other stood his father. Since his arrest for desertion, he’d assumed his father would disown him. He’d never expected a visit. Jenny and Kevin Donnelly stood by Zachary’s side.
“Son,” Zachary said, “I’ve just been informed of your arrest. What is this all about?”
Will narrowed his gaze. “You didn’t know?”
“Your sister told us you’d left camp and had been charged with desertion, but we had no idea you’d been captured. How long have you been here?”
Will counted back as he adjusted his greatcoat around him to ward off the late afternoon chill. “I’d say about two or three weeks. But I wasn’t captured. I returned voluntarily.”
“Why weren’t we informed that you were here?” Zachary was aghast. “I know you, son. You would never desert your appointed post without good reason. Jenny said you’d gone off after a woman.”
“Erin O’Connell,” Will said. “The man who took her would’ve killed her. I couldn’t allow that to happen.”
“Is she here with you?”
He shook his head. “I sent her north, for her own safety.”
“And the man who took her?”
“He’s dead.”
“I see.” Zachary seemed to mull this over. “So, there’s no one to confirm your story.”
“No, sir.”
“You can’t contact Mrs. O’Connell?”
“I don’t know where she is.”
“Well, I will be speaking to your commanding officer, and this will all be sorted out.”
Will admired his father’s confidence but didn’t believe anyone could get him out of this mess.
Zachary went in search of the colonel. Jenny stepped forward to wrap Will in a hug. A lump rose in his throat. The warmth of his sister’s embrace and the concern of his father for his welfare had him wishing he could get out of this. Then he’d at least have a chance of finding Erin again.
Jenny pulled back, dabbing her eyes with a hanky.
“Oh, Will. I wish I had known you were here.” She glanced past him into the shack that stood for a guardhouse. “They kept you locked in there?”
“They wouldn’t allow me to contact anyone.”
“How awful! And they kept you here over Christmas with none of us the wiser. Even Kevin didn’t know you’d come back.”
Will glanced at Kevin who stood at his sister’s side. “Does Father
know you two are...?” He hesitated, not sure what to say.
Jenny clapped a hand over her mouth. Kevin grinned. “I forgot,” she said, “that you didn’t know.”
“Begging your pardon?”
“We’ve married.” Jenny raised her left hand where a gold wedding band circled her ring finger. “And Kevin and I are having a baby.”
Will couldn’t believe all this had happened in the short time he’d been away. “And Father knows?”
“Yes. He’s even called Kevin, son.”
“Well, I’ll be. And what about Mother?”
Jenny sighed. “Momma’s still upset about the whole thing, but in time, I’m sure, she’ll come around.”
“A new baby will be a big help in that department.” He hugged his sister. “I’m glad at least one of us has found happiness.”
“Oh, Will.” Jenny hugged him again. “Papa will see to it that you’re released from this awful place.” She sniffed daintily into her hanky.
“How’s Amanda fairing? Does she know anything?” He cringed at the thought of his daughter suffering over his fate.
“We told her you had to go on a special mission. And that’s why she couldn’t see you this Christmas. But we told her you’d sent your love.”
Guilt washed over him. Even as he’d risked his life to save Erin, he’d regretted leaving his daughter. If he survived this war, he’d spend the rest of his life making it up to her. If he even had the chance to fight again.
Without Erin at his side, however, he couldn’t imagine any kind of life worth living.
Chapter Thirty-two
All Erin could concentrate on was how to draw a breath in the damn corset she’d agreed to wear.
“Tea, Mrs. O’Connell?” Erin glanced up at her hostess, a portly gray-haired woman, who stood over her holding an ornately decorated blue and cream ceramic teapot.
“Please,” Erin said. Maybe the tea would help her to concentrate on what she’d come here to do. She sure wasn’t about to eat anything. The hated corset would probably pop open, and she’d create a scandal. She smiled at the thought.
She had to make an extreme mental effort to forget about the damn undergarment—even though it threatened to pinch the life out of her—and concentrate on her assignment.
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