After she was dismissed, Emma decided to head to Eleanor's to clean up. Her jacket had nearly disintegrated through the ordeal, thanks to its cheap manufacturing. All she wanted was a change of clothes and a hot cup of tea.
But it wasn't meant to be.
Walking between tents, Emma was tackled to the ground and knocked unconscious.
****
Frigid water splashing over Emma's face roused her. For a moment, she thought she was back in the river, swimming and chasing Will. But then she remembered the ambush. Evening had set in. A distinct chill covered her arms rather than clothing, and she realized her torso was bare, except for the linen wrap she wore around her breasts. The wrap hung loosely. Instinctively, her arms slapped over her chest, and she tried to make sense of her surroundings. She sat up and quickly tightened the bindings around her. A lantern sat beside her on the ground, and the sound of the river's current wasn't far off.
"Get up."
"No. This ain't right."
Emma stood, still holding her arms to her chest. "Graham? Nash?"
Silence beat a moment before they both stepped in close.
"You're a liar," Graham said to Emma, "and a disgrace. You made everyone believe you were a soldier, just like the rest of us." He glanced at her wrap. "But you're not."
Nash stood quietly, a confused, uncertain expression on his face.
"I can explain," Emma said.
"Wouldn't surprise me if you were a Rebel spy," Graham continued, "planted here this whole time."
"I'm not a Rebel spy!"
"We'll see about that." Graham grabbed her by the arm and led her back to the encampment. Emma pleaded, and Nash mumbled his misgivings about the situation, but Graham ignored them both. He barged into McClellan's tent.
Although wearing a nightgown, the general sat reading documents. He stood when the trio entered. He feigned embarrassment until he took in the sight of 'Tom Edmonds' in his dimly lit tent.
"What's the meaning of this?"
"General, I've discovered an imposter in our ranks," Graham said. "This woman has been disguising herself as a man."
McClellan seemed to ignore the implication of Graham's statement and talked over him.
"Land sakes, Graham, what on earth have you done? Have you assaulted Edmonds in some despicable manner?"
Graham reddened, unprepared for the general's verbal battering.
"Sir, I beg your pardon," Graham raised his voice, "but Edmonds here is in fact a female."
He shoved Emma toward the general. McClellan stared at her with perplexity and an unexpected sense of compassion. He shook his head slightly as if his head could not accept the revelation. He reached for a blanket and wrapped it around Emma's bare shoulders.
"How could this be?" he asked in a low voice.
Shaking, Emma had no defense and couldn't make eye contact with her commander as she spoke.
"I'm sorry, General," she whispered. "I meant no harm."
"That's a lie!" Graham removed a folded paper from his coat pocket. "This letter says she's from South Carolina. A damned Rebel!"
"Graham! Calm yourself," McClellan said. He took and read the letter. "Would you mind explaining, Graham, how you come to be in possession of Edmonds' mail?"
"The letter arrived after she had gone on furlough. I was told to hold onto it, but I didn't see the point since I didn't think Edmonds was coming back. So I read it, found out there was no Tom Edmonds. I couldn't believe it. Then she ends up coming back, right after Trumball was injured, and, well, I had to figure out what to do."
For Emma, that explained why Graham had been taken aback at seeing her, awkward and standoffish. He'd avoided her for two months and hardly spoken to her. She had attributed the change in him to his recent experiences on the battlefield, knowing that combat affected every man differently.
"Then all that ruckus went on with that peddler," Graham said, "and I couldn't stomach you heaping all that praise when I knew different. So I had to prove to myself that it was true. I took her down and checked in her jacket. Sure enough, she's a woman."
"And what part have you played in this?" McClellan shot a look at Nash.
"I didn' kno' nothin' 'bout it 'til Graham here says we gotta git Edmonds. I thought it was some lark. I didn' kno' he was a-gonna attack him. Or, uh, her."
McClellan folded the letter. "Graham, I am appalled at your behavior with this situation."
"General!"
"Silence! You are temporarily relieved from your duties until this matter is resolved — without your further participation."
Graham stood dumbfounded for a second, then drew his pistol and aimed it at Emma.
"I'll resolve this matter right now. A woman in the ranks is a humiliation! I'm not gonna be a fool for some woman!"
He clicked back the hammer, but Eli Nash lunged at Graham and collapsed him to the ground. Graham fought back, and the gun fired. No one was hit, but the sound created an alarm in the camp. Soldiers scurried to the general's tent. Moments later, Graham, without his gun, was pulled to his feet and restrained. McClellan called for more shackles.
Nash, now holding the pistol, pointed it at Graham.
"Edmonds may be a woman," Nash said, "but he's a right fine soldier. Risked his life for all of us, went on them missions, even got shot." He glanced at Emma. "I don' care if he's a girl. I'd go to battle with him any day."
Emma smiled, mainly to herself, and tried to forget that a small crowd of her fellow soldiers had gathered inside the tent.
"Take him away!" McClellan thundered. "And as for the rest of you," he said to the confused, gawking men, "clear my quarters. I will handle this." He held Nash back and told him he would speak to him later. In the meantime, McClellan said, Nash was to offer no details of what had transpired that night.
"Nash," Emma said, "thank you."
He gave her a grin and a nod before he ducked out of the tent.
Once they were alone, McClellan held up the folded letter.
"I believe you have a great deal of explaining to do."
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
General McClellan surprised Emma. Not only did he maintain a relaxed posture around her, after she changed into suitable clothing, but he also listened intently to her entire story of how she ended up as a Union soldier. From her faux engagement with Vaughn, to her desire to help end slavery, and even to her feelings for James Trumball, Emma's tale never lost his interest. Emma surprised herself, hearing the story unfold.
"Well, I must say, Miss Cartwright, I don't take kindly to being made a fool of," McClellan said in a mild tone. He stared at Emma as though he still couldn't believe that Tom Edmonds did not exist. "This matter places me in a precarious situation."
"Yes, sir, I—"
McClellan held up his hand. "Please, allow me to finish. You may not be aware, Miss Cartwright, but you are hardly the first woman to disguise yourself and infiltrate the corps as a man."
Emma's face went blank, stunned from such revelation.
"Why, I've heard reports of widows picking up the arms of their husbands and continuing on into battle. I've even heard of women being discovered as you are, wearing a uniform and presenting themselves as men. Do you know the fate these women have met?"
Emma shook her head mildly and felt heat rush to her face.
"If rumors are to be believed, prison, lashings, even hangings." McClellan studied her. "Tell me, Miss Cartwright, what sentencing do you suppose is most proper?"
Emma swallowed hard and tried to keep her voice from shaking. "Sir, I'm willing to accept whatever reprimand you deem appropriate."
McClellan stood and picked his words carefully. "I never would have suspected that a woman could be so convincing, so bold, and so brave. Land sakes, what would Lincoln say?"
Emma remained motionless and made no reply as McClellan glanced her way.
"You might say that we've been through a great deal together," McClellan said. "War is an unfortunate but inevitable state for
man. To know that a woman has endured the hardships, well, I commend you, Miss Emma Cartwright, for your self-less service to the Union."
"Thank you, sir."
"However," he hesitated, "I have no intention of repeating that statement outside the confines of this tent."
Emma understood. She knew the general couldn't risk further damage to his reputation by publicly expressing compassion toward or amazement about a disguised female soldier. Especially a southern female, regardless of her position on the war. Even so, Emma felt a level of respect for McClellan that she hadn't flirted with since his appointment and their initial encounter.
"I regret to inform you that your services will no longer be required. In good conscious, I must dismiss you from your duties and insist that you to depart this very night."
Surprised, Emma asked, "That's it? You're letting me leave?"
McClellan wore a half-grin. "Although you have been dishonest with me to a degree, Miss Cartwright, I do not believe that, even though you are a Southern-bred female, you are a threat to the Union's cause. No soldier, in my opinion, could have sacrificed more."
He extended his hand, and he and Emma shook. Then, with a slight bow, he kissed the top of her hand. The sentiment, as well as the tickle from McClellan's moustache, gave her an inner delight.
"I will see to it personally that you are discharged," McClellan said, "but you must leave tonight. Enough attention has already been stirred over this situation, and I want no further upheaval. I request that you avoid your fellow comrades and let me handle any necessary explanations. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir."
"I'm disappointed that this marks the end of our adventures, but you'll be leaving this army alive, and that's an accomplishment. You've engineered quite a ruse, Miss Cartwright, and I do believe that the Almighty's favor shines handsomely upon you."
****
"I've been found out," Emma announced on Eleanor's doorstep in the middle of the night.
Eleanor, with Zechariah at her side, sighed and ushered Emma inside. Emma assured the Pratts that she wasn't in any danger and that no one was pursuing her. She quickly explained that she needed to evacuate the camp, per McClellan's orders. Though they were all exhausted, sleep wasn't mentioned. Eleanor brewed a pot of weak coffee while Emma described Graham's ambush and McClellan's reaction. Emma expressed her relief that the masquerade was over, but wished it had been on her own terms, her own timing.
"I'm sure it's for the best, Emma," Zechariah said. "Too much has happened now for you to go on this way, I believe." He looked at her lovingly. "You've more than done your part."
"He's right, Emma." Eleanor brought the coffeepot to the table. "I know you have a heart for adventure, and I know the cause is dear to you, but we've lost so many. I can't bear the notion…"
Thoughts of James consumed Emma. Silence saturated the tiny kitchen. Emma accepted that her time as a soldier was over, just as her time with James was over. She knew continuing the hoax would be too reckless, even by her own standards, but as Eleanor had mentioned, her desire for adventure wouldn't be pacified so easily.
"There's still one more thing I have to do."
****
Eastern, Kentucky
September, 1862
Despite the build-up of both Union and Confederate troops in the tense border state, Emma traveled to James Trumball's farm. Nestled in rolling hills, the Trumball property took Emma's breath away. Fields were ripe with corn, and a modest group of horses munched bluegrass in the pasture. As Emma approached, she saw two young boys playing in a creek and a woman hanging wash to dry. The woman was the first to notice Emma. She wiped her hands on her apron before greeting her.
"Hello. May I help you?"
"Yes," Emma said, "I hope I have the right place. I'm looking for the family of James Trumball."
The woman paused, and her face blanched.
"I'm Mrs. Trumball." She removed her bonnet and revealed delicate facial features. Pieces of her hair caught the breeze. "But I'm sorry to tell you that my husband died in the war."
"You're Lily?" Emma said breathlessly.
"Yes."
Emma felt her frail world fall into a tailspin. She recalled the letter she'd read from James' jacket, declaring that Lily was on her deathbed. Emma couldn't have been more shocked if James Trumball had been there himself.
"Forgive me, Mrs. Trumball, I meant no disrespect, it's just that… well I was told that you were ill and…"
Lily smiled. "Could I offer you some water? We could go inside." She referred to her home, a modest cabin with smoke wafting from the chimney.
"I would appreciate that."
Lily called to her sons and told them to help their grandfather in the barn. They replied with 'yes, Ma' and splashed their way out of the creek. Running barefoot, they kicked up dust and coated their feet with dirt. Emma couldn't help staring after them.
Inside the house, another woman worked on supper. She greeted Emma with a hello and a warm smile.
"Oh, I didn't mean to disturb your meal," Emma said. She grew ever self-conscious and considered a full retreat.
"Oh, nonsense, dear," the woman said. "All are welcome here. Please come in. I'm Mabel."
Mabel, the name signed at the bottom of the letter that Emma had read.
Emma gave her a nod as all of her manners seemed to abandon her. She felt awkward and tried to hide it.
"Maybe you should have a seat." Lily pulled out a chair, which Emma gratefully accepted.
"I apologize for acting so strangely," Emma said, "it's been a long journey, and seeing Mrs. Trumball, well…" Emma feared all of her words were wrong, and that she needed to start fresh. "I'm Emma Cartwright. I worked as a nurse for the Union army." Her eyes met Lily's. "I was at your husband's bedside when he passed."
Moved, Lily joined Emma in a seat at the table.
"Dear Lord," she said. "You were right there with him?" She looked at Mabel, who stood frozen. Lily's eyes filled with tears. "Please, tell me everything."
Emma's stomach tightened, and there, in the home James had built, she carefully unraveled the story of his final days.
****
The venison stew bubbled violently, and the cornbread almost burned as both Lily and Mabel hung on every word Emma had to say. Winston Salyers, Mabel's husband, entered from the barn, flummoxed at the sight of the three women, and the desperate aroma of the cornbread. Behind him came James and David, whom he ordered to wash up. Mabel introduced Emma enthusiastically. As the family settled around the table for supper, Lily and Mabel recounted all Emma had shared. Winston's attention lobbed from Lily to his wife, as they were both eager and pleased to repeat James' mission as a spy in Confederate territory. James and David soaked up the tale, both of them with eyes as handsome as their father's had been.
Emma's appetite waned as she felt glaringly out of place. Though they were friendly and caring, Emma couldn't escape the fact that she had almost been intimate with a married man. Yoked with guilt, she knew that had James lived, his place would have been here, at the table with his family, and not with her. Either way, she realized, she had no hope of a future with James.
When his plate was clean, Winston heartily thanked Emma for her visit, then returned to his work, the boys at his heels. Emma moved to help with the clean-up, but Mabel wouldn't tolerate her lifting a finger.
"You were right," Lily said as she served coffee. "I was powerful sick. Ma thought I was as good as gone." She glanced at Mabel. "But the Lord answered her prayers for me to stay here, take care of my boys. I spent a couple months in bed still, but I suppose you'd say it was a miracle. The boys don't like me to talk about it, though. They had a hard time seeing me so."
"I'm glad you recovered," Emma said. She found she meant it. Watching James and David, taking in the farm, Emma knew she would be a poor substitute for Lily, given the chance. Her days would've been consumed with making meals and keeping up with the wash. Was that the life she wanted, even with J
ames as a husband? She couldn't say, but she knew such chores were a far cry from slinking through Rebel territory together. Lily had been happy here with James, and Emma knew James would've preferred his life here on the farm over being an army lieutenant. This is who James was.
In that moment, Emma realized that she wasn't so different from her mother. She understood now how Olivia had fallen for Thomas, how she had given up her version of happiness so she could be with the man she loved. She also understood how molding into the plantation lifestyle had changed her mother and made her somewhat bitter toward Thomas. Though she couldn't imagine feeling anything but love for James, Emma saw how a seed of resentment could set in and strangle out those storybook emotions.
"I should be going," Emma said, "but before I leave, I have these for you." She took the letters from her bag. She gently ran her hand over them as she told Lily how she'd written the letters for James as he lay dying. Tears escaped her, and she didn't bother hiding them. "I'm sorry there isn't one here for you, Lily, but I know he loved you. He dreamed about you."
As Emma handed her the letters, Lily's hand lingered. She regarded Emma with a curious gaze. Questions seemed to form, but Lily refrained from asking.
"You've given me a great gift in coming here," Lily said. "I'll always be grateful."
"James was a good man." Emma wiped her eyes and stood. "I'd be remiss if I didn't honor him."
"Must you leave so soon?" Mabel asked. "I'm sure there's still so much more you could share."
That was true, Emma knew, but she found it harder to stay with each passing moment as their kindness seemed to grow. The family didn't have James' body to place in a family plot. Memories were all they had now.
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