The Quaker and the Rebel

by Mary Ellis

“Thank you.” Temporarily flummoxed, Maddy reached up and gave his callused fingers a quick shake.

  “I will do my best to protect your town from further harm.” He held her fingers and gaze far longer than necessary…or proper.

  Tugging her hand free, Maddy retreated backward so quickly she trampled the few remaining blooms missed by the horses. She felt a flush climb her neck as she picked up her skirts and ascended the steps. Pausing in the shelter of her porch, she stared at the man who still sat watching. He bowed a second time, replaced his hat, and galloped away, adding another cloud of dust to the heavy air.

  Madeline retreated inside and slammed the door, not pleased with her behavior. She wasn’t normally a woman who became flustered in the company of men. Remembering the trampled flowers under her feet, she shook her head. At thirty years old and widowed for the last two, she had no time for silly flirtations or coquetry. When her wits returned, Madeline headed to her stable to check the animals. The din of artillery shelling all morning made her mares skittish. If it hadn’t been for quick thinking last week, her beloved horse stock—Tobias’s pride and joy—would also be in the hands of the enemy. She stroked the horses’ flanks and rubbed their noses, trying to calm them with soft words and a gentle touch.

  Her own fears were another matter. Widowhood had inspired a determination to keep her husband’s farm flourishing. War had created a constant demand for the horses she had bred and raised. Although she would never become wealthy, the bills were paid. Tobias would have been proud of her.

  Tobias. It seemed so long ago when he had marched proudly off with the Sixth Pennsylvania Volunteers. He died at a battle the papers were calling First Manassas—first because a second unsuccessful battle was fought at the same loathsome place. He died before she’d grown used to the idea he was a soldier. Madeline had missed him fiercely during the first year, but endless chores filled her hours, allowing no time for grief. She couldn’t remember a day she hadn’t fallen into bed exhausted. But usually a sense of satisfaction accompanied her fatigue, so she persevered.

  The marauding Confederates took everything she had, all but her beloved horses. The moment she had spotted ragged butternut uniforms on the road, she had hidden her horses in a nearby cave—a cave known only to the neighborhood children. Now, while her mares munched hay from their bins, Maddy stood in the barn doorway and watched wave after wave of boys in blue march toward the center of Cashtown. The war had come to Pennsylvanian soil. What would happen to her sleepy little community?

  JUNE 30

  “Reverend Bennett?” Madeline softly called the man’s name through an open window; no one had answered her knock at the door. From every indication her preacher and his wife were both home. Laundry fluttered on the line, the barn door was open, and the backdoor was ajar to catch a rare breeze. As she’d ridden her mare through the town square and down the cobblestone streets, she’d seen very few people—nothing like the way things usually were, with friendly neighbors hanging over picket fences or milling on the church steps Sunday mornings. “Reverend Bennett?” This time she hollered his name in an unladylike fashion.

  The middle-aged preacher’s face appeared in the doorway. “Mrs. Howard, come in. Why are you out and about on a day like today?”

  “I rode my horse instead of driving the carriage, so I caught a nice breeze. I tied Bo to your water trough in the shade. I hope you don’t mind.”

  The reverend slowly lowered himself into an upholstered chair. “Of course not. Sit and make yourself comfortable. I refer to the commotion on the roads, not the heat. With so many soldiers afoot, my wife insists we remain below in the cellar. Haven’t you heard the news?”

  Madeline sat on the edge of the couch. “I’ve seen troops moving for several days. First the Rebs stripped my farm, and now our boys in blue are stirring up the dust.”

  “Everyone appears to be headed to Gettysburg. Entire brigades of cavalry have been spotted, along with long caravans of wagons. And all those poor boys marching in this heat.” He fanned himself with a folded newspaper. “Many of my neighbors are scared. They packed up their possessions and left.”

  “Where were they going?” Maddy asked, sounding childish. The fact she had no nearby relatives to offer shelter undermined her confidence.

  “North, east—anywhere away from what’s about to happen. But the time for leaving is long past. It’s no longer safe. Rabble follows every army. You must stay with us until this ordeal is over. There most certainly will be a great battle.”

  “No, Reverend. I couldn’t possibly stay. I need to tend Tobias’s horses. If I’m not home, who knows what will happen to them?” Madeline rose, regretting her decision to ride to town for news.

  “All right, but at least come below and share a bite with Mrs. Bennett. She worries about you alone on your farm.”

  Maddy loved the preacher’s wife like a dear aunt, so she followed him on the rickety steps to the cellar.

  After arriving safely home that evening, she relaxed as she rocked serenely on the porch. Lamplight from the kitchen window illuminated the handiwork of a spider. The thin gossamer strands weren’t organized into a web, but were tiny trapezes strung between porch rails. Maddy stared, mesmerized by the artistry. As she waited for the spider to reappear, the glittering yellow eyes of some creature peeked from the shrubbery. She felt no fear, only mild curiosity. The opossum issued a high-pitched squeak and then crept off toward home.

  Heat lightning danced and shimmered over the dark hills. The faint report of gunfire miles away was soon drowned out by peepers and cicadas. The frog and insect summer symphony soothed Maddy’s nerves with its familiarity. The war, although close at hand, was far from her mind that night. Her thoughts drifted to a tall Union officer with silver glints in his hair and sparkling teeth beneath a black mustache. Strength and power seemed to emanate from him. For the life of her, Maddy couldn’t remember why the situation in the garden had so vexed her. They were silly flowers. She had lost much more just days ago. She’d lost her entire world a mere two years ago. For the first time, the face of General Downing replaced Tobias’s in her imagination as she replayed their conversation over and over.

  “Foolish woman,” she muttered. Rising, Maddy peered up at a sky studded with bright stars. The moon had already finished its nightly path when she climbed the steps to her room. She undressed without lighting a lamp, donned her long cotton gown, and slipped beneath the cool sheets. Forcing away thoughts of the general, she quickly fell asleep and slumbered fitfully…until the scrape of a rusty latch roused her senses.

  With her heart pounding in her chest, Madeline bolted upright. The sound of a whinny lifted tiny hairs on her neck. Someone was in her horse barn! Maddy ran to the window and drew back the gauzy curtains. Peering into darkness, she could see nothing until the moon finally broke free from the clouds. Speechlessly, she watched as her prize-winning mares were led from the barn by several men.

  What should I do? Grab Tobias’s squirrel rifle from above the fireplace? Race outside and open fire on those who would pillage in the dead of night? Clad in my nightgown?

  Instead, Madeline did nothing. This time the thieves weren’t the marauding enemy who had stolen her chickens and milk cow. The men riding away with her beloved horse stock tethered to their mounts wore the blue uniforms and gold emblems of the U.S. cavalry.

  JULY 1

  The next morning dawned hot and hazy, with acrid smoke hanging heavy in the air. Soldiers in every shade of blue, from recently conscripted recruits to sage veterans, marched in both directions on the road. Horses pulled limbers of artillery and caches of ammunition, while farm wagons hauled food to a hungry army. White Conestoga wagons with red painted crosses carried the wounded from an early skirmish or boxes of medical supplies. Young couriers galloped down Taneytown Road at breakneck speed, perhaps with vital dispatches.

  In the hectic fervor, few soldiers took notice of a woman who headed to town on the side of the road. Walking in ninety-degree
heat through clouds of dust didn’t put Madeline in the best of moods. She arrived at the parsonage on Hemlock Street three hours later sweaty and thirsty. No one answered her knock until she pounded relentlessly on the door.

  “Mrs. Howard,” said an astonished Reverend Bennett. “What brings you back so soon? I told you to stay indoors today—”

  “May I come in, sir? And perhaps trouble you for a glass of water?” Madeline leaned against the door frame.

  “Forgive me, my dear. Come in. Rest in the parlor while I get you something to drink.”

  Maddy slumped onto a dainty embroidered chair and closed her eyes. The minister returned within a few minutes with a glass, a pitcher of chilled well water, and plate of gingerbread.

  “Thank you.” She filled the glass, drank it down, and refilled it. “I’m afraid this isn’t a social call. If I may, I would like to borrow one of your horses. I have business in Gettysburg.” She pressed the glass to her forehead.

  “Of course you may. But why not ride one of your fine Morgans?” Reverend Bennett pushed the plate of cookies closer.

  “They were stolen. That is my business down the road.”

  His face blanched with anxiety. “Goodness! That’s awful, but you must not endanger your life because of horses. Soldiers are fighting down the road. There is a battle right here in Adams County.” He whispered as though the enemy might lurk nearby.

  Madeline straightened in the chair. “Those Morgans are all I have left. Please, Reverend, I’ve never asked you for anything before. I promise to return your horse safely.”

  “I cannot refuse you, Mrs. Howard, although I strongly advise against pursuing this. I will saddle my gelding once the sound of artillery ceases.” He lifted his hand to forestall argument. “You must wait. I won’t permit you to blunder into the fray. Rest for a few hours and refresh yourself. You can leave as soon as it’s quiet. It should be cooler by then too.” He pointed at the settee and left the room before she could object.

  Madeline sat quietly for several minutes. Then she devoured the plate of gingerbread and reclined on the couch. She’d intended to close her eyes for a just short while, but she awoke hours later to someone shaking her arm.

  “My horse is saddled. Go with God, Mrs. Howard. I will pray for your safe return.”

  Mumbling her thanks, Maddy went out the back door and swung up in the saddle. The sun was already low in the western sky. She reached the Chambersburg Pike within minutes at a gallop and then slowed her pace. At the outskirts of Gettysburg, she had no difficulty locating the headquarters of the second corps. Her spirits lifted when she spotted a beehive of activity surrounding the vacated farmhouse. Confusion might allow her to enter unnoticed. Maddy sucked in a breath, set her jaw, and rode into the fenced yard, stopping at the hitching post.

  A stout lieutenant shouldered his rifle and grabbed the gelding’s bridle. “Hold up, miss. The Martins no longer live here. This here’s army property now.”

  “I’m well aware of that. I have business with General Downing. He’s expecting me.” She didn’t like lying to the man, but she was feeling desperate. Madeline slid from the horse and marched up the front walk, leaving the lieutenant still holding her bridle. Determination got her as far as the open doorway.

  Then the same wiry, arrogant major she’d met in her flower garden blocked her path. “I cannot allow you to enter, madam. State your business to me.” He spoke with obvious disdain for the intrusion.

  “My business is that someone in this corps is a horse thief. My brood mares were stolen last night, and I expect redress from your commander.”

  “If it’s financial restitution you seek, that is a matter for the quartermaster. You’ll not be troubling the general with—”

  “It’s not money I’m interested in, sir,” interrupted Maddy. “I want my property returned.” She fought to control her voice as her courage flagged. Then the door swung open, startling woman and aide alike.

  General Downing appeared as shocked to see her as the minister had been. “Mrs. Howard! Come in. I consider your visit a propitious omen.” He turned toward his staff member. “It’s all right, Major. I will spare a moment to settle a civilian injustice.” He stepped to the side so that she could enter. Then he closed the door in the astonished officer’s face.

  In an austere room smelling faintly of tobacco, Maddy’s waning confidence vanished in a heartbeat. “You may not be pleased to see me once you hear me out.” She tucked several loose wisps of hair behind her ear. “All of my horses were stolen from my barn last night while Union troops were moving through Cashtown.” She paused to moisten her dry lips. “From my window I saw blue uniforms on the thieves. I can only surmise they were your soldiers.” Surreptitiously she glanced at the maps and drawings spread across the desk.

  The general appeared to choose his words carefully. “‘Thief’ is a harsh word that some might consider treasonous. Considering your husband died fighting for this great nation, would you deny the army desperately needed replacement mounts? Our officers and cavalry require horses.” He dropped his voice to a murmur. “Today, there was a cavalry battle east of Gettysburg. Many good men died on the field. Many horses were lost as well. Everyone must make sacrifices in times of war.”

  Madeline’s stomach churned, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. “I pray that the Union army prevailed on the field.” She swallowed hard and continued with far less zeal. “I understand your predicament, General, but those horses are my livelihood. Without them, I will have to throw myself on the mercy of friends and neighbors this winter. But beyond my selfish desire to survive, I respectfully request that one of those horses be returned. Bo is a medium-sized, brown Morgan with a distinctive white blaze down her face. She was bred from the best blood-lines in Pennsylvania. I hand-raised and trained her myself. You may keep the others as my contribution to the war, but not…not Bo…” Maddy’s voice trailed off as she willed herself not to cry.

  The general reflected for a long moment. “If you will make yourself comfortable, I’ll only be a minute.” He pointed at a chair and closed the office door behind him.

  Madeline strained to hear through the solid maple, but the commotion outdoors masked all but the intensity of his discussion with the major. She inhaled a breath to steady her nerves and perched on the edge of the straight-backed chair.

  What an effect this man had on her. She felt as skittish as she had during her brief courtship with Tobias. Never had she been affected by a man’s looks, yet her attraction to him was undeniable. Tall and broad shouldered, the general had thick dark hair that curled over his jacket collar. So dark they were almost black, his eyes transfixed a person with their intensity. He wore a meticulously neat uniform that was distinguished but with none of the flashy gold tassels seen in daguerreotypes. Yes, he was handsome, but his appeal stretched beyond physical attributes. He possessed some unseen quality—a magnetism that drew her like bees to nectar.

  And she didn’t like that one bit.

  Maddy’s woolgathering was abruptly curtailed. “What have you learned?” she asked as soon as the door swung open.

  He crossed the room in a few strides. “I’ve sent word to the cavalry commander with my chief-of-staff. When the situation and time permits, he is to look into last night’s unauthorized acquisition of civilian livestock, specifically for the horse you described. I cannot promise, but you have my word I will do my best to find Bo.” He bowed from the waist as though they had just been introduced socially.

  Madeline leaned back from his close proximity. “Thank you, General. I’m sure your best will be more than adequate. It’s truly more than I expected. Good day.” In her haste to leave she knocked over the chair she’d been sitting in. She should have paused to pick it up. Then she might have recovered enough composure to make a graceful exit. But when she noticed the deep wrinkles around his eyes and the smile tugging at his lips, she fled the room like a startled rabbit.

  He is laughing at my clumsiness!
>
  The lieutenant was still holding Reverend Bennett’s horse when she reached the porch. Maddy crossed the dusty yard, mounted, and rode toward home as though the entire Rebel cavalry was breathing down her neck.

  James Downing had seen pain and suffering without measure during the past two years. He had witnessed deprivations of every sort in both civilians and soldiers alike. Yet something in Mrs. Howard’s tender plea for a beloved horse tore at his soul. From his window he watched her disappear into a cloud of dust on the road with her bonnet ribbons streaming behind her. His intrigue with the perplexing woman went beyond a pretty face and comely figure. Was it small-town living that had preserved her sincerity and innocence? Why else would she worry about ruined flowers when the eastern theater of war had arrived at her doorstep? Yet she possessed enough spunk to ride into chaos to rectify an injustice.

  He allowed himself one long moment to stare after her before turning back to his duties. Great Scot, did I just agree to find a blasted horse in the middle of an engagement? But before he slept that night he would endeavor to keep his promise. If he had it to do over, he would agree to that and more. The realization that Mrs. Howard had such power over him didn’t sit well. Closing his eyes, his brain etched a picture of her face to carry into battle tomorrow. With creamy skin dusted with freckles, wavy hair the color of ripe wheat, and green eyes that flashed in amusement or pique, Madeline Howard would be a hard woman to forget. He’d been smitten the first time he saw her on the road to Cashtown and would remember her long after he moved his corps to the next battlefront.

  Her long limbs had moved gracefully beneath the cotton dress in her woebegone garden. Considering the fierce look on her face, his staff thought they had met the enemy sooner than anticipated. Never in his life had an upbraiding been so pleasurable. The moment she marched from her house, he lost his entire train of thought, having no idea what they had been discussing. And when he glanced back over his shoulder, he thought the window curtains had parted an inch. Had Mrs. Howard been peeking from between the lace panels? If he thought so enchanting a woman could be interested in him, he had indeed gone mad.