Emma guided James through a patch of woods, certain a band of Confederates would be hidden there, hoping to ambush a pocket of the Union army. Her hunch proved right. Muskets reared and yelling ensued. Men dropped from trees and apprehended Emma and James. She knew the only thing that had saved them from gunfire was the Confederate uniform she wore.
"Soldier!" Emma shouted as she yanked her arm from a Rebel who grabbed her. "Get a hold of yourself! I'm Captain Hall. I need to get this prisoner to headquarters at once. I must see General Johnston." She took a fistful of James' jacket. "This man has vital information pertaining to the Federals."
Emma tolerated a few questions before pointing out that valuable time was being lost. Naturally, she didn't want to get too detailed about who she was or how she had captured her prisoner.
With a two-man escort, Emma as Captain Hall and the captive were led to a tent within the epicenter of the Rebel encampment. Emma, having never been to this section of the camp, swept every face with her eyes, looking for signs of suspicion or disbelief. She even kept an eye out for Big Sam. The daunting slave did not materialize, but she stopped dead in her tracks. She spotted Orson, the wandering peddler, conversing with an officer. It appeared as if the officer had taken Orson up on his offer of whiskey. Though Emma could not catch a drift of their conversation, an eerie anxiety washed over her, especially when she didn't notice Will anywhere.
Inside the tent, the two were told to wait while word was delivered to Johnston.
"I don't think we've convinced them," Emma said once she and James were alone.
James didn't respond. Emma realized he was fixated on two tables where maps were spread out. Current strategies and recent battles were outlined. Emma looked them over, wishing she could memorize every line.
"Which ones do we take?"
"I don't know, but we gotta be sure," James said.
"Ahem!"
Startled, Emma and James stood straight and found a Confederate officer had entered the tent.
"Are you General Johnston?"
"No, the general is detained at the moment. I am Major Jonathan Carter. How may I help you, Captain…?"
"Captain Hall." Emma did her best to sound ripe with confidence and in control. "Sir, I captured this scoundrel near the Chickahominy River. He's under McClellan's charge, sir, and I believe if you talk to him, you might be able to get some useful information out of him."
Major Carter made no movement. His face lacked any sign of interest in her suggestion.
"What makes you think we can provoke an honest answer out of him?"
Emma felt her body heat rise. "Why, surely you or someone in this camp is skilled in the artful persuasion of… communication with the enemy?"
Major Carter cocked his head and squinted. "Where are you stationed, Sergeant Hall?"
"That's Captain Hall. My duties are top secret, Major. I perform reconnaissance and report directly to our government's highest officials."
"Really?" He drew out the word. "Then where, may I ask, is your horse? The corporal told me you arrived here on foot."
James darted his eyes between the two and pretended to feign interest.
"Unfortunately, in my determination to capture this rat, the beast was lost, an irrelevant circumstance at the moment. Major," she did her best to sound authoritative and irritated, "can you have this man properly interrogated or not? I can simply take him on to Richmond if you're unable to handle the task here. Although I will be sure to mention this incident, and your lack of cooperation for the Confederacy, to President Davis himself."
Although he still wrestled with a degree of uncertainty, Major Carter straightened."That won't be necessary." He drew his pistol and sneered. "I will see to him personally."
Chills slid down Emma's spine as James was led away. She prayed for him silently as her heart raced. She returned to the maps and had to act fast. If their plan went well, James wouldn't spend but a few minutes letting Major Carter question him before he struck him and broke free. Luckily, the major had not bothered to search James, as James had strapped two revolvers to his legs. Emma only had ten minutes at most to steal a map and meet James at the northwest edge of the camp. She fretted over which map to take — and how she would store it inconspicuously on her person.
"Major Carter?"
Emma whipped around at the sound of the new voice. Grateful that she had not been caught rolling up a map, Emma's relief dissipated. The young officer, a sergeant, who had entered the tent, was no stranger. Alarm gripped her. She had to abort the mission and get out of there. Immediately.
"I'm Captain Hall." Emma tried to keep her head lowered and her eyes cast downward, but she knew it was not befitting behavior of an officer. "The Major had a matter to attend."
"You can help me then."
Desperation surged through Emma.
"I would, young man, but I'm needed over at the hospital right away. Please excuse me."
He stepped in front of her. "The hospital has been under quarantine for two weeks now."
"Yes, I realize that." She attempted to look at him without making eye contact.
But bewilderment and recognition dawned on his face.
"Emma!" His eyes scanned her in disbelief. "What are you doing here, dressed like that, in a uniform?"
There was no need for Emma to deny it. Her mind reeled. She considered going for her weapon but knew she wouldn't have the malicious intent it would take to use it.
"I joined the war effort," she said.
"You're a girl. How could you become a soldier? You have no right to be in that uniform." He took hold of her sleeve and started to tug.
"Calm down, Quinn!"
She pulled away from him, causing her gun to sling free from its holster and thump to the ground.
"Grandpap's Colt!" Quinn said. He and Emma dove for it simultaneously, but Quinn came up with it.
He snatched a fistful of Emma's Rebel coat as she got to her feet and pulled her to his face.
"Well, just look at you now," he said. "Pa isn't around to save you anymore. Neither is Grandpap. How dare you shame our family like this? A girl wearing a Confederate uniform!"
Emma's anger flared. "When I said I joined the war, I didn't mean the South. I'm a Union soldier with the Army of the Potomac. I'd rather be dead than part of anything you supported."
As the realization dawned on him that his sister had infiltrated the camp to steal secrets on the Union's behalf, Quinn's eyes went wild. Emma had seen it frequently, along with the rage that followed. Although Quinn's performance with guns, hunting, and swimming had always fallen short, he was now a trained soldier. He'd earned his rank, had clout in the army, and now he had their grandfather's prized gun.
"You want to be dead?" Quinn chuckled. "I can arrange that!" He held the gun to her temple. "Just think one small click and it's all over. Why, I'll be a hero, nabbing a Union spy!"
Emma bit Quinn's fisted hand that held her. He yelled and dropped the gun. Emma tried to yank from his grip, but Quinn slugged her in the jaw. She reeled and thumped to the ground on her back. Quinn quickly stepped over top of her.
"I been waiting my whole life for a chance like this," he said. "I never knew what Pa and Gradpap saw in you. They fawned over you like you were better 'n the rest of us. All them years, always had to have everyone's attention. Made me sick."
Catching her breath, Emma came up on her elbows and locked eyes with her brother.
"You never worked hard at anything in your life," Emma said. "You've never cared about anyone but yourself. And even worse, you still can't throw a punch."
Emma jabbed him in the crotch. Quinn fell to his knees in agony. Emma scurried to her feet and ran for the tent's opening. Quinn caught her by the ankle and made her slam to the ground. He climbed onto her back. Emma butted the back of her head into his face. A crack sounded and Emma knew she had broken his nose. Quinn cried out.
It wasn't the first time she had been part of breaking his nose. When t
hey were younger, the Cartwright children spent the summer months in a swimming hole. They tied a rope on an overhanging branch of an oak tree. Emma always managed to swing the highest and then back flip once she let go of the rope. Quinn could neither repeat nor top such a feat. Being the weakest swimmer of the bunch, he rarely tried. But one day, he climbed higher in the tree, thinking all he needed was more height. Emma laughed and told him he would end up breaking the limb or some part of his body. The others laughed. Mad and determined, Quinn climbed higher still and ignored another warning from Emma. He lunged from the branch, awkward and clumsy. His flip failed and in his confusion, he forgot to let go of the rope. Quinn slammed into the tree's trunk, nose first.
Now, Emma found no amusement in Quinn's humiliation. She just wanted away from him and out of the Rebel camp. Alive.
Blood oozed from Quinn's nose. Despite his injury, he rolled Emma over and stayed on top of her. He chopped his hand across her cheek.
He leaned down into her face. "You ain't gettin' away. I finally get to put you in your place — and be rid of you for good."
Quinn stood and pulled Emma to her feet. He slapped her again. Emma fought through the sting and retaliated with a slug to Quinn's nose. He yelped and lost his grip on her. Emma attempted another dash to escape. Quinn grabbed her at the waist, causing them both to topple over one of the map tables. Their scuffle continued on the sod, and they collided with a tent post. Like a soldier losing his leg, the tent knelt to the ground, shrouding a wrestling pair of siblings, and calling attention to nearly every soldier in the camp.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
With bloodshot eyes and black and blue marks blotching his face, Quinn commanded the center of the crowd of his gathered comrades. Blood stained his torn uniform. A saber in one hand and the Colt in the other, he riled his listeners like a barbaric warrior.
On her knees, with her hands bound behind her, Emma rested her rear on her heels. A million emotions swept through her. Primarily, distaste for Quinn. She refused to let her head hang in defeat or to show any signs of fear, though she quivered with anxiety. Even with her stint as a courier and spy, Emma never believed death would have its say. Ultimately, she knew she was a fighter, a survivor, and that she found strength battling back from shaky odds. Now, however, she felt hollowness in her stomach and dread she could not suppress.
Once she and Quinn were pulled from underneath the mangled tent, Quinn announced that he had seized a Union spy. The news passed and spread through the camp like a plague of lice. Quinn's dramatics roused and attracted the entire camp. Emma knew he would use this moment for all it was worth, and she knew — sister or not — Quinn would have no qualms about torturing her for all to see.
There was no sign of James or Major Carter. She could only assume the worst had happened to James. Hope fled from Emma that either she or the lieutenant would return to the Union camp. A sense of dishonor blazed in her chest at the thought of letting down General McClellan, and President Lincoln as well. She was glad none of them could see her now.
To an even greater degree, she was thankful Knox couldn't see this scene unfold.
"Men," Quinn said. "We are in a vulnerable position. The enemy sits just across the York River. Those filthy Yanks think they can plow us over and push ahead to Richmond, that we're no match, but we'll stop them!"
Shouts burst forth.
"In stopping the enemy, we must also beware of their presence among our ranks. Moments ago, I discovered this retch, who attempted to steal information about our strategies."
Quinn pointed the sword under Emma's chin. She gave him a dead stare and nothing else.
"But we must also realize," Quinn continued, "that the enemy comes in many forms and disguises." He whipped the saber and sliced a button off Emma's Confederate coat. "We will no longer be fooled." He smirked while satisfaction danced in his eyes. "And you will all see how low the Yankees are willing to go." Quinn cut off the remaining buttons. The coat hung open, revealing a white muslin shirt underneath. The crowd grew quiet, riveted and prickling with expectation.
Quinn stepped closer, intending to cut off the rest of Emma's coat and undershirt, but an explosion thundered in a nearby tent, rocking the ground and sending debris in all directions. Flames engulfed the tent as black smoke billowed and stretched toward the sky. Men ducked and uselessly hunted for cover as a fierce series of blasts filled the camp with chaos.
In the confusion, Emma jumped to a squatting position. She kicked Quinn's hand and sent the saber flying. Then she yanked her wrists and broke free from the bindings. The remains of Adam Hall's coat slipped off her.
Enraged, Quinn yelled and dove at her. He landed on her, but Emma rolled out from under him and struck him in the side of his head with her elbow.
"Emma!"
She turned and saw James fast approaching on a horse. He held out his arm. Emma positioned herself and grabbed his arm as he swept by. Awkwardly, she swung onto the back of the horse.
Quinn gave chase.
"Faster!" Emma shouted at James.
He weaved the frightened animal through scurrying soldiers as the explosions continued.
"Just hold on!"
Quinn, fueled by vile fortitude, closed the gap. The horse resisted galloping. Quinn grabbed the horse by the tail, making it whinny and toss its head. Emma fell from its backside. Quinn took a hold of her with both hands.
James struggled to stop the horse and get it turned around.
"I'm not letting you get away!" Quinn said. "I'll kill you with my bare hands if I have to!" He thrust his hands around Emma's throat and squeezed.
Unable to pull him off, she fell to her knees.
"Quinn, no," was all she could say.
Though her vision began to blur, Emma saw a boot thrust into Quinn's forehead. He toppled backward as James zipped past on the horse. The Colt, stuffed into the waist of his pants, fell free. Still kneeling, Emma rubbed her neck and worked to regulate her breathing. She scrambled to reach the gun, but looked up when she suddenly heard a click.
"I knew you were no good." Will stood looking down on her with an angry glare. His pistol was aimed at Emma's head. "Shoulda shot you that night in the rain."
As Will put all his angst into pulling the trigger, Emma rolled as hard and as fast as she could to the side, just as the gun discharged. She sprang to her feet and charged Will. She went for the gun. She grabbed his hand and tried to muscle it from him, but the gun fired again. The bullet zipped past them, but a man suddenly yelped. Emma and Will saw Quinn grab the side of his neck and sink to his knees. Will stood paralyzed with disbelief. Emma snatched the pistol from him and tossed it with all her might toward the burning tents.
She looked at Will. "Hatred never prospers."
James called out to her again and galloped the horse up beside her. She picked up the Colt, then mounted the horse, and sat in front of James.
"Put some pressure on his wound," she pointed at Quinn as she shouted to Will, "and find him a doctor!"
Emma stole one last look at her brother, bleeding and writhing on the ground, before James thumped the horse's flanks and led them out of Rebel territory.
****
James and Emma dashed across the countryside on their steed, putting as much distance as possible between them and the Rebel camp, but complications slowly developed. For one, darkness began to settle. Continuing their trek back to Union headquarters in the ink-black night could prove unwise. Further was the issue of their horse. Supporting two persons at full speed, he grew tired sooner than they wanted.
"Probably best if we make camp for the night," James said. "Don't want to risk gettin' lost out here."
Emma agreed, though they lacked necessities for making a campfire and any supper. Weariness enveloped her, but she found strength being close to James. His arms had been around her while they rode and sent a feeling of security through her she didn't want to trust.
James slowed the horse as they both considered exactly what t
o do.
"So what happened back there?" Emma asked. She and James had spoken little during their sprint to escape.
"Well, that Major wasn't interested in interrogatin' me. Musta figured it was a waste of his time. He took me out in the woods, not far from where we met them other soldiers. I knew he was plannin' on shootin' me, so I had to knock him out."
A warm thrill pulsed through Emma. She enjoyed the mental picture of James slugging Major Carter into oblivion.
"I snuck back to check on you," James continued, "and heard you arguin' with that fella. I knew you were in trouble, and I figured we didn't have much time. So I found the ammunition tent and created what you might call a di-vision."
They traded smiles at James' reference to Grady's word choice.
"You saved my life," Emma said somberly. She thought back to Quinn cutting off the buttons on her coat. He had been moments away from revealing her as a woman. How long would he have drug it on before he executed her in front of his comrades? Recalling the wicked pleasure on his face, she shuddered.
"That fella," Emma said, "as you called him, he wasn't just a Confederate. He was my brother."
James looked startled and let the notion sink in. "But he hit you. Wrestled you to the ground. You mean to tell me your own kin would treat you like that?"
Embarrassed, Emma nodded. "We're not what you might call a close family. Not anymore." Her father, and even her grandfather, had been the ones who held the family together, even if it was only loosely at times. Though Quinn, and sometimes Alexander, had always displayed a mean streak, Emma never would have imagined a day where her own brother would lift a hand to kill her. Part of her blamed the death of her father for many of the Cartwright's recent troubles. Though another part of her wondered if the family's disintegration was inevitable with the outbreak of the war. None of it mattered now, she knew.
"He was gonna kill you back there."
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