by Kelli Estes
Emily squirmed. Did all men think this way? “No, no. I won’t take your money, Yardley. You go on.”
The woman took the matter into her own hands by tucking the bills into a pocket in her skirt, wrapping both hands around Emily’s arm, and drawing her away from her protective corner. “Don’t you worry none, sugar. You’re in good hands with me.”
Emily tried to pull away, but the woman held on tighter. All the way up the stairs, she talked to Emily in her sweet Southern twang, saying things that made little sense and reminded Emily of her pa talking to a skittish colt. At the top of the stairs, Emily looked down into the parlor one last time and saw Yardley watching her with a leering grin on his face.
The bedroom was dominated by a huge four-poster bed dressed in rose silks. Emily stayed close to the door. “Look, you seem real nice, but I can’t do this.”
The woman laid her fingertips on Emily’s neck and slowly drew them down her arm. “Don’t be nervous, sweetie. I know you’re young, but you have nothing to be afraid of. I’ll take care of you. All you need to do is relax.”
Emily pushed the woman’s hand away and tried to think of a way to get out of this without revealing the truth. “Look, ma’am…” She paused. “What is your name, anyway?”
“V. A. White, but you can call me Vee.” She leaned back against the bureau and thrust her breasts out.
Emily looked away and pointedly studied the pinstripes on the wallpaper. “Miss Vee, I appreciate your efforts, but I am not interested in your services.” She moved toward the door. “Keep the money.”
She had her hand on the doorknob when she felt herself spun around and enveloped in soft skin and the scent of night jasmine. Lips clamped onto her own, tasting of mint.
Emily froze. This was the first kiss she’d ever received in her entire life, and it shocked her to be coming from another woman. Of course, the woman thought she was kissing a man, but still, the strangeness of it all confused Emily.
Vee’s lips softened and started to move in a way that actually felt nice. Was this what it was like to kiss a man? Emily’s eyes drifted closed, and she forgot herself in the sensation of intimacy she had never known.
But then she felt the touch of Vee’s tongue inside her mouth, and she was reminded of where she was, and who she was. Emily put her hands on Vee’s shoulders and stepped back roughly. “No. I cannot.”
But Vee would not be swayed. She reached for the buttons on Emily’s trousers and undid the top one. She would have continued with the rest had Emily not grabbed her hands. “I cannot be more serious. Stop.”
Vee dropped her hands so they hung limp at her sides, and her head drooped. “What did I do wrong?”
Now she’d done it. “It’s nothing you did, I promise.” She refastened her button and straightened her blouse. “It’s just that I…you see…I…” She struggled to come up with a plausible excuse and finally settled on the one she’d tried with Yardley. “I want my first time to be with my girl back home. After we’re married. You understand.”
Unfortunately, that seemed to renew Vee’s efforts. She stepped toward her. “I can show you how it’s done so that you please your girl beyond her imagination. You won’t be dishonoring her, but rather, you’ll be doing it for her.” She reached up and placed both palms on Emily’s chest.
They both froze.
Vee’s palms flexed, and she pressed harder. Mortified, Emily felt all energy drain from her. Her ruse was up.
For one cold moment, Emily felt a plan forming in her mind. To protect herself and her secret, she would do what she needed to do. Even if that meant harming this poor woman. Holding absolutely still, Emily waited to see what happened next, for that would determine her own actions.
As though unsure of what she was feeling, Vee’s hands slid down Emily’s body toward her trousers again. Emily stepped back before those exploring hands found what they were looking for. Or, rather, found the absence there.
“You’re a woman.” It wasn’t a question. Nor an exclamation.
All of her senses focused on this one moment, and Emily knew she was about to do something she could not take back. Swiftly, Emily grabbed Vee’s wrists and held them so tightly she saw the woman flinch, though she hid it behind a saucy smile. Emily shoved her face into Vee’s. “If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you. Do you understand?”
To her credit, Vee did not struggle to get away. She did not appear at all afraid of Emily, and even started to laugh. With her hands still in Emily’s grip, she moved her arms as though to spread them wider and Emily let her, curious to see what she was up to.
Vee spread her arms wide, taking Emily’s wide as well, and her gaze inspected Emily’s body. “I noticed you were feminine, but I thought it’s because you’re so young. How old are you anyway?”
“Nineteen.”
“A year older than me.” She twisted her hands out of Emily’s grasp and walked around her, inspecting her all the more. “What’s it like to be a soldier?”
Not sure what she was up to, Emily shrugged. “It’s all right. I work as hard as any man, and I do my duty better than a lot of them.”
“Aren’t you scared?”
“At times.” She thought about it a bit more. “All the time when the Rebs are shooting at us.”
Vee completed her walk around Emily and looked closely at her face. “Have you killed anyone?”
Emily swallowed and looked away.
Vee nodded. “In battle or to protect yourself?”
Thank heaven she hadn’t had to resort to that for her secret. Not yet, anyway. “In battle.”
Vee didn’t blink. “How do you maintain your disguise?”
“We soldiers sleep in our clothes and rarely bathe, though I’ve swum in a few rivers fully clothed.” Still not entirely certain she could trust this woman, Emily took the seat Vee offered on the edge of the bed, making sure she was close enough to Vee to stop her if she ran for the door. “I find that if I act like a man, everyone sees a man.”
Vee climbed on the bed with her and sat cross-legged with her back against the headboard. She suddenly looked young and nothing like a lady of the night. “Do you curse and fight and gamble and do all the things we women aren’t supposed to do?”
Emily relaxed. She nodded and burst out laughing at the eager delight that crossed the younger woman’s face. “And I march through rain and mud and sleep in the snow and sometimes have nothing to eat but hardtack full of vermin.”
Vee’s face took on a look of consideration. Finally, she said, “But you can’t deny your freedom is better than living like this.” Her arms indicated the room and the knowledge of what she did here to survive.
That sobered Emily. “Yes, I think it must be better than this.” She asked, “How did you come to be here?”
Vee looked at her lap and fiddled with a loose string on the bedspread. Emily opened her mouth to apologize for the intrusive question, but Vee started telling her story. “I had a beau back home, named Joe. Lordy, was I head over heels for that man. I would have followed him to the ends of the Earth if he asked it of me.”
Emily shifted so she was more comfortable. “What happened?”
Vee continued fidgeting with the string. “I bore his child, and when he found out, he left town. Some say he joined the fight against Northern aggression.” She shot a look of apology to Emily.
“Whatever happened to him,” Vee went on, “he was gone, and I was an unmarried mother. My family took my daughter from me, and I don’t know what they did with her. They disowned me.” She finally raised her face and looked at Emily as though daring her to condemn her as so many others had done. “I made it here, and I’m surviving on my own without them. I don’t need them.”
Knowing her next words had the power to inflict even more wounds on this tender creature, Emily thought about how to best respond. “You seem to be s
uccessful at your profession.”
“I’m saving to buy a house of my own. I won’t be doing this forever, you know.”
“I didn’t think you would.” Although she hadn’t thought about it at all.
“How much do you make soldiering?”
The question surprised Emily, so she answered honestly. “Thirteen dollars a month, plus one set of clothes per year and daily rations.”
Vee scowled. “That ain’t much.”
“No, but I have freedom to say what I want and think what I want, and most days I’m happy under the sky and stars doing work that feels important. Plus, I get to be with my brother and our best friend.”
Vee thought that over. “Maybe I should enlist, too. Wouldn’t that be something?”
They were startled by a hard rapping on the door and a male voice calling, “Customers are piling up, Vee. Finish and get downstairs.”
A wave of scarlet moved up Vee’s chest, neck, and face. For the first time since they started talking, she seemed embarrassed by her line of work. “Thanks for talking to me, Private. I don’t have many friends, you know.”
Emily took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “My name is Emily, and I hope our paths cross again someday when this war is over. I don’t have many friends either.”
Vee bounced off the bed. “I better go boast of your manly prowess to your friends downstairs if I’m to be helping you keep your disguise.”
Downstairs they found Yardley, O’Brien, and Jacobs all standing by the door, impatient to be on their way to the saloon they planned to visit next. Vee clung to Emily’s arm all the way down the stairs, and then, as they joined her fellow soldiers, she took Emily’s face in her hands and gave her a deep, passionate kiss. When she pulled back, Emily knew her face must be as pink as Vee’s dress but she didn’t say anything as the men whooped and slapped her on her back.
“Come see me again, soldier. Many times.” Vee winked at Emily, and as she turned to walk away, she lightly tapped her palm against Emily’s backside, sending the men into another round of cheers.
Emily smiled her thanks to her new friend and then lost sight of her as the others pulled her out of the brothel amid congratulations and questions. “You have to tell us everything,” O’Brien begged as they turned toward the river. “What was she like?”
Emily smiled. “A gentleman does not kiss and tell.”
Chapter Nineteen
Present day: Woodinville, Washington
Larkin spent the day after Christmas at home alone while Grams and Kaia went shopping. Rain poured steadily all day, and Larkin was quite content to stay inside with Bowie, who never judged her, never pitied her. She flicked on the gas fireplace, made a fresh pot of coffee, and listened to the rain pound on the roof as she settled at the kitchen table with her laptop. This search had become an obsession. Larkin was fully aware that obsessive work was another symptom of PTSD, but she wasn’t about to stop. Others may judge her for it, but the research was holding her together.
Emily had not written much in her diary about her time in Nashville, and Larkin was curious about it, so she looked up the Union occupation and was surprised to see search results come up for a big battle in that city. It took her a moment to realize the battle wasn’t in 1862, but two years later. The reason Emily did not write about a Nashville battle when she was there was because there hadn’t been one. After Fort Donelson fell to the Union side, Confederate generals knew Nashville would be the next target so they pulled their forces out of the city. Nashville’s Mayor Richard Boone Cheatham met Union General Buell under a flag of truce, and Union forces peacefully took control.
Curious to see if she could find more on the movements of Emily’s regiment, Larkin spent time searching and clicking on links, reading whatever came up. That’s when she realized Emily would soon be heading into the Battle of Shiloh. The warring emotions of curiosity and dread battled inside her until curiosity won out and she opened Emily’s diary once again.
March 26, 1862: I have never been more miserable in my life. Our march seems endless. Every hill we crest, we see nothing but more hills in our path. Everything is soaked through since we’ve had more days of rain than not. Ahead of us in the column are miles of other soldiers stirring the mud into a sticky soup as deep as our knees in places. Each step is difficult with all the blisters and open sores on my feet. Holes in my boots grow bigger each day. Each mile is daunting, yet we pass them somehow. At least twelve a day.
I think I could march in my sleep. Maybe I do, since I can’t remember big gaps of time. We’ve been assigned to General Buell’s Army of the Ohio in Bull Nelson’s Fourth Division and Hazen’s 19th Brigade. Colonel Moody leads our 9th Indiana. Word is we are marching for Savannah, Tennessee, where we’ll join General Grant’s forces and proceed south to Corinth, Mississippi, to seize control of Confederate railroad lines.
Several battles have been occurring elsewhere, and I know it is only a matter of time before I again face the Rebs. The Union conquered the Confederacy at Pea Ridge, Arkansas. But northeast of there (and my present location), our forces were forced to retreat from the Shenandoah Valley and are amassing in Washington to protect the Capital. Ironclad ships battled for hours in the waters off Virginia. What a sight that must have been! Though the war continues, I stand firmly on the right side of this conflict and know the Union will prevail.
Trees are starting to burst open with new leaves, and early flowers have pushed into the light of day. Surely this new beginning is a sign from Heaven that our country will soon have its own new beginning with all states reunited. I hold on to that hope, even knowing that each day could be my last. I have Ben and Willie beside me, and that’s all I ask.
Chapter Twenty
March 15–April 7, 1862: South Tennessee
Emily could have happily served out the rest of her enlistment in Nashville, but on the fifteenth of March, orders came in directing them to march southwest to Savannah, Tennessee, where they were to join forces with the Army of the Tennessee and confront the Rebels in northern Mississippi. They set out from Nashville late in the day on a southwesterly course and were told to be on alert for secesh along the way who were itching for a fight.
The men also had their eyes out for food in fields and cold cellars to supplement the poor rations they were given on the march. They found that most had been cleaned out long ago.
On the first day, Emily, Ben, and Willie laughed at the soldiers who had grown soft in Nashville and had to shed weight from their packs. Discarded clothing, cookware, books, and all sorts of items littered the roadsides and sank into the mud, becoming unrecognizable after muddy boots, wheels, and hooves tromped over them. By the third day of marching, Emily could take it no longer and had to step out of line to lighten her own load.
She could not give up her half-tent or rubber blanket, not with this rain. In fact, she’d developed a strong attachment to her rubber blanket and would not let it leave her sight. It was the only thing keeping her dry on the march and warm at night. In a way, it was the closest thing she had to a home.
Nor could she discard her overcoat, for she needed the extra layer for warmth. It might have been spring, but the nights were still cold. Her ammunition, musket, and haversack of food were essential, of course, as was her diary. What could she possibly let go?
Digging deep in her knapsack, her hand touched the book MacGregor had given her at Christmas. She’d carried it with her all the way from Cheat Mountain and had finished it days ago, but she was hoping to read it again. Uncle Tom and Eliza and all the others felt like old friends. How could she possibly give them up?
The book was a brick, though. There was no denying it. She had to leave it behind.
After laying it as far away from the road as she could, and under cover of a rhododendron bush in hopes that it might survive the rain and be a gift for some unlucky soul traveling the same road, she also
tossed her fry pan, figuring she could share with Ben or Willie until she bought a new one later.
She didn’t dare shed any clothing, for not only did it protect her from the elements, but it was her disguise and she could not risk that being her undoing. The only things left were the stack of letters she’d taken from David’s pack and her family Bible. Since the letters were written in her own hand, she decided she could let them go. She set them on top of Uncle Tom’s Cabin. As she moved to place the Bible there as well, she realized she still hadn’t been able to bring herself to record David’s death. She stuffed it back inside her knapsack next to her diary.
With her pack only a little lighter, she resumed her march and soon caught up again with Ben and Willie in the slow-moving line.
Excitement came on the fourth morning when they reached the Duck River and found the bridge on fire. While the officers and engineers discussed what to do, the soldiers got in a much-needed break, many of them hunkering under trees around hastily built fires and boiling water for coffee. Some took the time to pitch tents and fall asleep wrapped in their rubber blankets on a bed of mud. Emily waited long enough to warm her insides with a cup of weak black coffee before she wrapped herself in her coat and blanket and fell asleep with her knapsack as a pillow.
She was soon roused, however, with orders to ford the river and make camp on the other side. The commanding officers had decided it would take too long to build a pontoon bridge. Emily didn’t mind. Wading was her only means of bathing, for what it was worth, and she was wet already from the rain. They were ordered to hold their muskets and cartridge boxes over their heads to keep them dry as they crossed, but Emily managed to hold her knapsack up as well. If her diary got wet, it would be ruined. It was her last link to Pa and worth saving, no matter what it took.
With thirty-seven thousand troops to get across, along with the wagons, animals, and artillery, the process took all day, and they camped on the opposite shore that night. Emily’s aching legs and blistered feet welcomed the respite, and she was grateful for a break in the rain and a roaring fire that helped dry everything out.
