by Leigh Lee
Eugenia raised her eyes heavenward, and unable to contain her sorrow any longer, she whispered a plea, “Oh please, God—when will this bloodshed end?”
A rough, jeering voice jolted her from prayer “Best save ya pity and prayin’ fo’ those who deserve it. ‘Stead o’ wastin’ it on stinkin’ rebel trash, ya copperhead!”
The orderly who stood in condemnation was a known troublemaker. It was no surprise to find his ruddy face distorted with unconcealed hatred as he glared at her and Fred’s lifeless body.
Rage swelled inside her with astonishing intensity. With balled fists, she rose to face the blowhard, who named her a traitor for showing compassion to a dying man.
Private Alex Lawson was not much taller, but his width was more than two times Eugenia’s small frame. His black eyes glared from behind a greasy mass of unkempt dark hair. A shaggy, food-ridden beard covered his chin, which most likely harbored a number of feasting critters.
“How dare you! Have you no compassion? I am sure you would appreciate a bit of kindness if you were injured and dying behind enemy lines,” Eugenia hissed, barely able to contain her anger.
Lawson’s already rosy complexion flushed to a deeper hue. “Now ain’t that pretty talk. Don’t change the fact that we wouldn’t be here if it weren’t fo’ the likes o’ him. Sets me to wonderin’ what kind o’ scum ya is mourning the enemy.” Lawson gave a menacing jeer. While he spoke, he moved closer, the thumbs of his fleshy hands tucked into his pants.
Over the time of posing as Sergeant Eugene Adams, Eugenia’s small size demanded that she avoid a fight at all costs, but as she viewed the detestable man bearing down on her, fury squelched all her attempts at reason. Her lips curled back in contempt, and her green eyes turned dark and cold. “I don’t have to explain my actions to you, Private. And, if I did, I doubt you would understand. You’re nothing more than an insufferable, malingering bully!”
Chest heaving, she proceeded to walk past Larson, but he latched on to her shoulder and spun her around. Stepping in front of her, he blocked her path. “I ain’t done, ya big talkin’ little man. But when I am, ya will have yer pr’orities in proper order,” he sneered as he closed the space between them.
“Step out of my way, deadbeat.” Eugenia had not planned to push him this far, but the man’s cruelty had goaded her beyond clear thought. Not until Lawson lunged for her throat did she realize she was dangerously close to getting the beating of a lifetime. Her wide eyes on his clawed hands, Eugenia ducked without warning, which sent his overextended weight sailing right past her. She spun to see him land face-first in the dirt.
The open flap of the tent lay just beyond him, the only means of escape—straight over him. Gritting her teeth, she took an unavoidable springing step off the man's sizable rump in her dash for fresh air and safety.
Lawson’s bellow of outrage rang in her ears as she fled at breakneck speed through the busy camp. “Ya little weasel!” he spat. “I’m gonna grind ya up and—”
There was not much self-respect gained by turning tail and running, but then one could not claim much intelligence by staying to fight against such odds. Before Lawson could make his next charge, Eugenia was already putting distance between herself and the bully. Focusing all of her attention on escaping, she never noticed the crisply dressed officer in her path.
Chapter 3
Jeffery Bradford had just donned the new uniform he had commissioned a tailor to make. It had cost him a handsome sum and had arrived last night in the mail. Since he had paid for it himself, the frock coat was made of the finest Prussian blue wool. Gold braid adorned the shoulders and shiny brass buttons decorated the front. A bright red sash encircled his waist and a new hardy hat completed the ensemble.
It was an excellent morning, full of sunshine and his first opportunity to view the camp at his leisure since his arrival weeks before. With pipe gripped between his teeth, he stood on a hill overlooking the field hospital, taking pride in the changes he had made.
He became aware of raised voices behind him, and then without warning, he was hit square in the back with such force that it sent him and his assailant careening down the hill. He rolled several times until finally settling on his back in thick mud, his pipe still pressed between his lips, and the culprit sprawled on top of him.
“Oomph,” he muttered, staring into the deep green eyes of Sergeant Adams. The urchin wore a look of terror and rightfully so, for Jeffery was already mentally tearing him apart limb from limb. Like a squirrel, the little man scrambled to his feet gibbering rapid apologies.
Stunned, Jeff lay on his back, struggling to recapture the last fleeting traces of his patience as the sergeant attempted to brush the mud from his coat. Swatting Sergeant Adams’ hand away, he rose stiffly, slapping at the muck on his brand-new uniform with his brand-new hat. As he viewed the damage, he dared not look upon the face of his assailant, for fear of what he might do.
Regaining a modicum of the composure, he was renowned for, Jeff turned to face the sergeant. As he peered down at the small, blanched face, his expression held nothing back. The urchin quaked and squeezed his eyes shut, awaiting his deserved thrashing.
Jeff glanced in the direction from which the sergeant had come. Seeing the sign “Dead House” hung above the opening, he spoke, his fury barely constrained. “I can now understand why the officer formerly in my position placed you where he felt you could do the least harm!”
The sergeant mumbled apologies, but not appeased, Jeff continued his tirade. Flinging his arms out wide, he spun on his heel. “Imagine the success we would have in subduing the enemy if you, Sergeant, were among their ranks.” Unleashing his full anger, he finally shouted, “I suppose you have a good explanation for this, Sergeant?”
The sprite turned dark crimson. “I—I guess I wasn’t watching where I was going—uh.”
Jeff bent over him with a black look. “You—guess?” His voice grew in volume with each syllable, and he leaned closer, causing the little man to step backward. “You are not sure?”
The sergeant glance shifted to the curious stares the other men in the camp gave as they strolled by. “Yes, sir, I am sure. I suppose that I just did not see you.”
Standing to his full height, Jeff clasped his hands behind his back. “You did not see me? Almighty God. If our situations were reversed, I might find logic in that asinine statement. Where were you off to in such a damned hurry? Apparently, you don’t eat enough to feed a bird, so I know food was not your motivation.”
The green eyes swept in the direction from which he had come. He shrugged, jabbing a toe at the ground. “I’m sorry, sir. My mind fails me.”
Jeff glowered at Sergeant Eugene Adams’ face. There was something unusual he could not quite grasp, and it nagged at the edge of his mind as his eyes roved over the impish features. Except for freckles scattered across the bridge of the small nose and a few smears of dirt, the man’s complexion was bright and clear. Thick lashes framed the now frightened green eyes. An inkling of an idea began to surface in Jeff’s mind but dissolved when a corporal hurried up and saluted him.
“Begging your pardon, sir. There is a young woman from Maryland asking to look over the wounded. She claims to be searching for her brother.”
With great reluctance, Captain Bradford dragged his eyes from the perplexing face to give the corporal his attention. “Who is she, Corporal Rigby?” he snarled.
Corporal Rigby glanced at the paper in his hand before handing it over. “Miss Victoria Winfred is the woman’s name. She says she received word that her brother, a rebel, fought in the battle here at Gettysburg, and might be among the wounded.”
Jeff looked at the page and recognized the hastily penned signature of General Meade on the pass. “So she has gained permission from the General, himself,” he mused aloud.
“Yes, sir. And the lady is quite adamant about seeing the officer in charge,” Rigby added with a smirk.
“I will attend to it immediately,” Captain
Bradford stated, swatting again with his hat at the quickly drying mud covering his uniform.
“Yes, sir,” Rigby answered, then hesitating a moment, he stared at the captain before venturing, “Beggin’ your pardon, sir—but if I may ask—what happened to your uniform? I delivered it to you last evening, and it already looks older than Father Time.”
Jeff liked Corporal Rigby, he really did. Nonetheless, that question asked during his current state of aggravation had him blinking disbelief. Was he in charge of the most bumbling, incompetent hell hole in the entire army? Was there not even one among them with more sense than that of a braying ass?
His sharp retort blew the startled man back a few paces. “No, Corporal, you may not ask. If you have nothing better to do than to inquire about my attire, perhaps I can find something better to occupy your time!”
Rigby gulped and saluted, turning another shade of pale. “Forgive me, sir. I meant no disrespect. With your permission, I will take my leave and attend to my duties.”
“See to it, Corporal. Dis-missed!” Jeff growled and returned to slapping at the mud on his trousers and jacket. He glanced up to find Eugene Adams staring at him with wide, apprehensive eyes. With added irritation, he barked, “Sergeant, seeing that this is your fault, the very least you can do is to help brush this confounding dirt from my backside.” Presenting a stiff back to the little man, Jeff muttered something about being saddled with a ‘bad luck Jonah’ of a sergeant.
“Yes. Sir.” The lad’s hand shook as he picked at the worst of the drying mud. When he came to the caked mess stuck on the rear of Jeff’s trousers, the sprite halted. Glancing over his shoulder, Jeff saw the small hand hovering in mid-air.
With his patience already stretched far enough, the sergeant’s feather dusting technique only served to prime his anger further. “Adams! For the love of God, put some blasted muscle into the task. I do not have all day.” Beet red and with trembling hands, Sergeant Adams lifted the tails of the Captain’s jacket and brushed the remaining clumps of mud from the cloth.
Once the job was done, Jeff turned around to face Adams. He felt a smidgeon of pity as he looked at the red oval face so perfectly smooth. That earlier sense that something was not as it seemed resurfaced. This was the strangest little man Jeff had ever met, and his behavior was even stranger. “You are an odd sort, are you not, Adams?”
The tiny shoulders squared at the insult, a frown on his face. Yet much to Jeff’s surprise, he had the wisdom not to fire back with disrespect. “Sir, perhaps we should not keep the lady waiting for news of her brother.”
The pity Jeff felt vanished. Jabbing a long finger at Eugene’s nose, he snapped, “Sergeant! I do not need you to remind me of my duty. I am not the forgetful one between us. I pride myself on being on time. You do not! Now pick up your feet and follow me. I may have need of you.” Jamming his hat back onto his head, Jeff marched off in the direction indicated by Rigby.
~*~*~
Eugenia had to run to keep up with the captain’s long-legged strides. The experience of finding herself stretched across the top of his massive chest, staring into those stormy blue eyes, had shaken her badly. The contact of cleaning his breeches was far too intimate. There had also been those first terrifying moments when she feared he might strike her. Though now desperate to be away from him, there would be no escape, not yet. Any excuse she construed in her mind seemed trivial when she considered it from the captain’s point of view. It was best to keep quiet and do his bidding, so as not to incite him further.
Chapter 4
The young woman stood at the edge of camp. Attired in a gaily-colored peach day dress with hoop skirts, she waiting under the shade of a tall tree. Her back was turned as they approached, and from behind, her shape in the wide skirts made Eugenia think of a bell that a schoolmarm would ring to signal the beginning of class. Not caring much for the current fashion rage among women, she chuckled at her own humor, harboring faint curiosity over the need for those billowing skirts.
As they neared, the woman turned to face them, flicking a fan in front of her face to ward off the midday heat and abundance of flies. Golden blond hair escaped from a matching peach bonnet in tiny ringlets that framed delicate and beautiful features. Her full lips curved into a delighted smile.
Eugenia almost stumbled into the captain once again when his steps slowed. Forced to move quickly around him, she heard him mutter, “What a ray of sunshine.”
His eyes shone with open admiration as he then snapped to attention in front of the woman. When he swept off his hat, and swung it in a flourish to one side, Eugenia could not resist rolling her eyes. In her opinion, he was over reacting. However, the deep huskiness in her commander’s voice when he addressed the woman made her gawk in stupefaction. “Miss Winfred, I am Jeffery Bradford, the officer in charge. You wished a word with me?” he asked, his lips curling into a generous smile.
The woman’s enormous brown eyes lit up, and she returned his smile. “Major, I had not meant to disturb you from your very important duties,” she drawled fluttering her lashes in a coquettish manner as she extended a gloved hand in his direction.
“It is captain,” Bradford corrected with an even brighter smile as he took her hand in his. “And it is no bother at all. It is always a pleasure to be in the presence of one so lovely.” He bent to plant a light kiss upon her gloved hand. “I am but your humble servant. How may I be of service, Miss Winfred?”
Eugenia cringed. Humbleness was not a part her commander played well.
Miss Winfred giggled. “Colonel, there is no need to stand on decorum. Please call me by my given name, Victoria. Everyone calls me that. Hot day, is it not?” Breathless, she fanned voluptuous breasts that swelled and strained against the bodice of her gown. Smiling, she dropped her fan on the ground between them making only a feeble attempt to pick it up.
Eugenia stared in fascination. Never had she seen a woman so effectively manipulate a man. This woman had honed the art of flirtation to a conglomeration of subtle movements. Each flick of her hand, every curve of her smile, and flash of bosom were all perfectly orchestrated to capture a man’s rapt attention.
“Miss, as I said before, it is Captain Bradford. Allow me.” He leaned forward to retrieve her fan.
The captain’s slack-jawed expression when he rose and became eyelevel with the woman’s bosom was comical to the girl who bound her breasts in an effort to hide her femininity. Eugenia did not even try to suppress the snort of laughter that burst from her mouth.
Captain Bradford cast her a blistering warning before returning his gaze to Miss Winfred. He straightened, a sheepish grin creasing his cheeks. “Your fan—uh—Miss Victoria,” he whispered huskily.
Eugenia grimaced. It was more than obvious that Miss Winfred was very aware of her effect on the captain. The ease with which she could reel in a man—an art Eugenia had never employed—was both fascinating and annoying to watch. It was further vexation that Captain Bradford did not seem to notice the ploy and was acting like a pup lapping at her heels. Eugenia longed to tell him that a lady would never behave in such a brazen fashion but wisely thought better of it and kept silent on the matter.
Taking advantage of the captain’s proximity, Victoria Winfred placed her hand on his chest with a flirtatous batting of her lashes. “Thank you, sir. I have come to look for my brother, Lieutenant James Winfred. He is in the Third Corps, Army of Northern Virginia, and I believe he may be among the wounded.”
Eugenia groaned when the captain jolted from the touch of the woman’s palm. As if bewitched by her soft brown eyes, he swallowed hard. “The surname of Winfred does not sound familiar. Please understand there have been thousands of men treated at this field hospital and many have died nameless. Those who could tolerate the journey have gone to permanent hospitals. Therefore, I must stress that if your brother is still here, it means that his injuries are severe. I only mention this to prepare you should we find the worst to be true in his case.”
&n
bsp; Sliding her hand over his chest, Victoria purred, “I refuse to consider such gloomy thoughts, sir. I trust you will let me know as soon as you find out anything concerning my brother?”
The captain took the lady’s hand and pressed it between his. “Of course. I will do everything within my power to discover his whereabouts.”
Eugenia stood back with a frown, about to choke over the obnoxious display. In fact, if the two kept it up, she might be sick.
“I am in your debt, sir.” Victoria fluttered her lashes and then lowered her head.
Releasing Victoria’s hand, Captain Bradford surprised Eugenia by hauling her forward by the elbow and announcing, “This is Sergeant Adams. He will escort you to my office and offer some refreshments while I look into this matter.”
Eugenia’s head whipped up in dismay. She did not want any part in this charade and was quick to question the decision. “Sir?”
Victoria did not appear any happier about the situation. She wrinkled her nose as soon as she glanced at Eugenia. Uncertain brown eyes shifted back to Captain Bradford, and she muffled a giggle behind her hand. “Why, sir, this is but a boy! Surely, he is too young to be a soldier. I would rather place my well-being in the hands of a competent, capable man, like yourself.”
Wiggling out of Captain Bradford’s grasp, Eugenia gave a disapproving grunt. She was on the verge of telling the “lady” that she would instead rather escort her to the edge of a cliff, when the captain reclaimed her arm, cutting off any hint of her sharp retort. His stifling glare warned that Hell would seem a sweeter place should Eugenia utter a single word.
With his fingers still biting into Eugenia’s arm, the captain assured the lady. “I promise you, Miss Winfred, uh, Victoria, though Sergeant Adams is small in stature, he is quite capable of the task at hand. I would never leave you in the company of one who would allow harm to befall you.” His stern blue eyes returned to Eugenia with the promise of swift retribution should his orders not be followed.
