The Liberator Series Box Set: Christian Historical Civil War Novels

by Stephenia H. McGee

  As Peggy scrambled to close the room off from any onlookers, Annabelle recovered from her shock and leapt from the bed, hustling to Matthew’s side. “What in heaven’s name happened?” she asked, helping Matthew lower the limp body to the floor in front of the fire.

  “We have to get him warm. Now!” Matthew snapped. Annabelle jumped back, but then the lessons learned as a nurse’s aide returned to her and she squared her shoulders, taking on more confidence than she felt.

  “We must get him out of these wet clothes and get him dry.” Her nimble fingers quickly loosened the buttons of his sodden coat, and Matthew’s hands were there to pull the garment free. From her side vision, Annabelle could see Peggy tossing the remainder of their logs on the fire, coaxing it into a roaring flame that lit the room well enough for Annabelle to get a clear look at the pale, blue-tinged face of the man in front of her. Her heart clenched.

  Annabelle wasn’t even sure the man lived. When her fingers brushed his neck as they pulled the material away, the skin there felt like slick snow under her touch. She risked a glance up at Matthew, and found in his features the same fear that lurked in her heart, though she dare not voice it.

  In short order, they had the man stripped of his coat, single boot, frayed socks and the thin shirt underneath that felt as if it might pull apart in her fingers as she tugged it over his head. The man’s matted hair clung to his scalp and the eyes nestled in sunken sockets remained closed. Matthew clutched the man’s thin shoulders and began to shake him.

  “Wake!”

  When there was no response, Matthew shook the unconscious man harder, making his head fall back, revealing translucent-looking flesh under his chin. It looked even sicklier than the cheeks she had seen above his ratty beard, and didn’t speak well of his condition.

  Annabelle clutched Matthew’s arm. “Stop it!”

  Matthew didn’t seem to hear her. He leaned close to the body and then let out a low moan, pulling the man forward against him. “He is dead! He is dead, and I have failed!”

  Annabelle put her hand on Matthew’s shoulder and looked to Peggy, who stared back at her with wide eyes. Matthew began to mumble words she couldn’t decipher, though the agony in them was clear. Suddenly, the man gave a small cough and Matthew jerked his head up, thrusting the limp man away far enough to peer at his face.

  Annabelle started tugging on Matthew’s sleeve. “Get up!” she ordered. He stared at her dumbly, so Annabelle clenched her fingers tighter. “Now! If we have any hope to save him we must first get him dry and warm.”

  As if her words broke a spell, Matthew immediately lurched into action. She left him to remove the man’s pantaloons and stepped over to the bed, wrenching the quilt free. Keeping her eyes downcast, she thrust the blanket at Matthew. In a moment, he and Peggy had the man tightly wrapped inside. Annabelle dropped to her knees beside them and began vigorously rubbing the man’s arms. “Hurry now, rub his legs and try to get his blood flowing again.”

  Without looking at them, she knew that both Matthew and Peggy had complied with her orders, and soon the poor fellow began to shake with their efforts. Annabelle watched his face and prayed that their actions would be enough. Beads of sweat began to pop up along her hairline from the roaring flames and the quick work of her hands.

  “It is doing nothing!” Matthew barked.

  Annabelle did not turn to look at him, but rather shifted her weight so that Matthew might see around her. “That is not so. Look, even now his skin is less blue and some of the color has begun to return to his face.”

  Matthew seemed satisfied with this and returned to his efforts rubbing the man’s legs while Peggy massaged his feet. Annabelle wasn’t sure for how long they continued, but finally, the man moaned and moved his head on his own accord. Breathing a sigh of relief, Annabelle sat back on her heels and studied her patient.

  Now that he was dry, she could see that the color of his hair was a sandy blond, and though not as long as Matthew’s, it hung low on his face and fell past his ears. She looked over at Matthew, who was staring at the slow rise and fall of the blanket wrapped around the man’s chest.

  “George?” she croaked, her gaze not leaving Matthew’s worried eyes.

  He nodded. Annabelle looked to Peggy, who had quit rubbing George’s feet to stir the fire again. She found no surprise in the older woman’s features and wondered at her own. Who else would it have been? She looked back to Matthew. “How?”

  He cut his sapphire blue eyes over to her, as if seeing her for the first time since he’d stumbled in. “A miracle.”

  Suddenly remembering that she was wearing nothing more than her thin shift, Annabelle drew her arms up over her chest. The movement caught Matthew’s eye and his gaze followed. She watched as surprise dawned on his features and then the bob of the knot in his throat as he swallowed deeply. He averted his eyes in the same moment she started to scramble away.

  Peggy, it seemed, had either noticed the exchange or had also just realized that Annabelle was undressed and scurried after her, snatching her pallet quilt from the floor and draping it around Annabelle’s shoulders in one fluid movement. Annabelle turned away, trying to will the heat to drain from her cheeks. After a few breaths, she started toward the men again. The blanket pooled around her as she walked, but left her toes exposed as she came to stand by George’s head, which Matthew was gently placing on his own wadded bedding quilt. She quickly scrunched her bare toes back beneath the quilt and waited for Matthew to look up at her before she spoke. “What are we to do now, with an escaped prisoner?”

  Matthew drew his lips into a line and thought a moment before he replied. “I would like to say we let him recover for a few days, but I fear that will not be an option. It will take the last of my funds, but I might be able to secure a wagon to hitch the horses to, and we can be out of Elmira by mid-morn.”

  Annabelle pulled the quilt tighter about her shoulders though she was not cold. “I agree. Staying here would not be wise. We should continue north to my mother’s family.” Doubt clawed at her that they would even be received, but what choice did they have? She looked down at George, his wasted frame and gaunt features barely showing any resemblance to the brother who stood watch over him. But still, as she looked closer, a stirring of memory reminded her that this was, indeed, the man she had seen when she had gone into the prison. She closed her eyes and dropped her chin.

  Oh, Lord. What a miracle you have woven. Only You could have brought these things together.

  When she opened her eyes, she found Matthew studying her. She offered a tired smile he didn’t return. “Tell me of this miracle you spoke of,” she said.

  Rather than light with excitement as she expected, his face hardened. “Another time. We have much to do.”

  Annabelle cocked her head and opened her mouth to retort that until the dawn arrived they’d nothing more to do than wait and allow George to warm, but Peggy’s hand gripped her elbow. Annabelle looked down into the woman’s warm brown eyes that spoke words her lips didn’t need to. Annabelle stifled a small smile, knowing Peggy was right. Let the poor man have a few moments to recoup.

  Suddenly, she realized that Matthew was still clad in sodden clothing that clung to him. She noticed what seemed to be a Union coat, but didn’t bother to ask where he’d gotten it. Worried he may also take the chill, she pointed a finger at him. “We need to get you out of these wet clothes as well, lest you catch your death while trying to save your brother.”

  Matthew’s expression indicated he would gladly make the exchange, and something about that look pained Annabelle in a way she could not quite identify. Alarmed, she moved to start tugging off his jacket when he seemed in no hurry to do so himself.

  Peggy yelped just as Annabelle secured her blanket with one hand and reached out with the other to unhook Matthew’s top button. “Oh, no, Miss Belle! You’ll do no such thing!”

  Annabelle dropped her hand, blinking at Peggy in surprise. She had another patient to tend
and they best hurry before he followed his brother’s fate. Why would Peggy object to such a thing now, when they’d just finished the very same treatment on the other?

  Peggy placed both hands upon her hips, taking the stance that Annabelle knew all too well. “That there man is right capable of takin’ off his own clothing. He ain’t in need of no young lady to help.”

  Annabelle’s cheeks flushed and she gulped, spinning away. “Of course. I’ll keep my eyes this way while you ready yourself, Captain.” This received a soft chuckle she didn’t want to admit she was pleased to hear. Her embarrassment fled with the knowledge that Matthew might soon return to his usual self.

  Peggy, on the other hand, scoffed. “I ain’t gonna have it. There’s been too much goin’ on that ain’t proper as it is.”

  Annabelle frowned, looking over her shoulder to remind Peggy they were merely caring for a patient, but instead her gaze landed on Matthew just as he pulled his shirt over his head and revealed the hardened muscles underneath.

  She saw only a flash of skin before Peggy’s face filled her vision and her fingers dug into Annabelle’s arm. “Out with you!”

  Annabelle gaped at her. “Surely you don’t mean to put me out of the room in naught but this blanket?”

  Peggy’s brows furrowed. “Better you stand in an empty hall than in here.”

  Without waiting for a reply from Annabelle, Peggy tugged her across the room and out into the much cooler air of the unheated hall. She caught just a little of Matthew’s chuckle before the door clicked into place.

  “Really, Peggy, that was rather unnecessary.” Peggy huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, which Annabelle noticed was fully clothed. “When did you get dressed?”

  “Whilst you was makin’ moon eyes at the Captain.”

  Annabelle balked. “I was doing no such thing,” she said in a harsh whisper.

  Peggy looked at her as if she were daft.

  “What?”

  “Nothin’, child. You just go right on denyin’ you’s smitten with that fellow.”

  “Peggy!”

  Peggy simply shrugged, only further agitating Annabelle. What a ridiculous time to be having such a foolish argument! Annabelle pulled her blanket tighter, choosing to ignore Peggy’s silly exaggerations.

  Instead, she focused on what might lie ahead. From what she could tell from the map the innkeeper had shown her upon their arrival, her grandparent’s home was no more than a good day’s ride farther north. If they left early and kept the horses at a quick pace, they could get there before nightfall. But, with the time lost in securing a wagon and the slower pace George would likely require, it was possible they might not reach the haven in a single day. Would George survive a night out of doors if they did not or if her grandparents turned her away?

  They waited in silence for so long that Annabelle began to fear that any one of the four doors down the darkened hallway would open and someone would find them standing here with her wrapped in a blanket. She did not wish to invite questions she had no answers to.

  Finally, the door swung open and Matthew appeared, dressed in his Confederate gray uniform pants and a spare undershirt. She had not seen him wear the gray in weeks. She cocked her head, but he ignored her, instead swinging the door wide for them to go back into the room. Annabelle noted his tousled hair, still damp and tucked behind both ears, the ends falling across the top of his collar as she stepped through the doorway.

  “The sun will soon be up,” he said. “I am going to the livery to await first light and see how soon I can secure us a wagon.” He nodded to them and stepped into the hall. “Keep him warm and be ready to go as soon as I return.” He cast one last look at his brother and pulled the door closed behind him.

  Before it fully shut, Annabelle saw Matthew’s jacket slung across the back of a chair and drying by the fire. She frowned, hoping he wouldn’t catch his death without it. Why not wear the uniform jacket as well as the pants? But thankfully she realized the foolishness of the thought before she could voice it.

  She went to kneel by George, pressing her hand to his cool forehead. He shivered now, and Annabelle hoped that marked an improvement in his condition. It at least seemed better than him lying limp. She hated to soon remove him from the fire and into the cold New York air. She tugged the quilt from her shoulders and draped it across him, tucking the ends beneath his body.

  “Come now, child. Let’s get you dressed.” Annabelle complied, reaching down to lift her hem. Peggy gasped. “No! You ain’t doin’ that right in front of a man!”

  Annabelle looked at her flatly. “He’s asleep. Might not even be conscious.”

  “Makes no difference,” Peggy replied, scooping up a damp quilt Matthew had obviously used to dry himself and ushered Annabelle toward the far corner of the room.

  Annabelle eyed the bundle of shivering blankets on the floor before stepping behind the quilt Peggy held up to provide her a makeshift changing screen. She sighed as she pulled her worn garment over her head. “You know full well that man is in no condition to be trying to look at me changing.”

  Peggy merely snorted at the comment and gave a small shake to the curtain to hurry Annabelle along. Knowing it would make little difference what logical arguments she gave, she popped her head out from behind the blanket to meet Peggy’s glare. “Might I use the rag?”

  Peggy’s features scrunched as though she were annoyed with herself for not thinking of it first. Then they turned into a scowl as she realized she didn’t have enough hands to both hold the blanket and fetch the rag. She gave a shrug and tossed the quilt onto Annabelle’s tousled hair.

  Annabelle released a small squeak and clutched the blanket to her, feeling a bit foolish standing there with a quilt slung over her head, her bare feet sticking out from the bottom.

  “The water’s right cold, Miss Belle. I’s sorry for that.”

  Annabelle glanced in the direction of the firelight, even though she could only see the green patches of the blanket that muted its glow. “It is plenty warm in here. I can wash with unheated water.”

  Peggy grasped the quilt and repositioned it so that she once again had the curtain in place, letting one side drop only for an instant as she handed Annabelle the damp rag. Annabelle made quick work of wiping off, pulled on her single petticoat but left it for Peggy to fasten, then reached for the frayed pink skirt hanging over the footboard of the bed only a few inches away.

  A sudden memory flashed through her mind brought on by the skirt’s shortened hem. She’d had to rip it free to use as a ribbon to secure her hair after escaping from Matthew that day in the woods, a time that felt like months, rather than mere weeks behind them. The bottom of her petticoat had been sacrificed to cool the fevered brow of Lieutenant Monroe, now gone from this world.

  “I think you should wear the gown instead,” Peggy said, breaking into her thoughts.

  Annabelle peeked around the curtain. “Why?”

  “Well…I wonder if them rags is the best for showin’ up at your momma’s home place.”

  Annabelle chewed her bottom lip. “Perhaps. I just hate to travel in my only good dress.”

  “You’s goin’ to be in a wagon this time.”

  True. The wagon couldn’t possibly add too much more wear onto her dress. “Here, I’m more covered now than I was in my nightdress and that poor man has more to worry with than looking at me. Drop that quilt and tie my strings.”

  Peggy gave no rebuff to Annabelle’s statements and spread the quilt out on a clear spot on the floor to dry before returning to lace the strings and help Annabelle into the heavy blue fabric of her skirt. When it was secure, they pulled on the fitted bodice and Peggy secured the loops over the buttons on the back.

  “There, now. You look more like a proper lady.”

  Even without a looking glass, Annabelle knew Peggy’s words were truth. In a few moments, her tangled locks were combed and secured, and she and Peggy began gathering their belongings and stuffing them into
Father’s carpet bag.

  The sun had painted the sky with its light, and they had everything, save the sleeping man, ready to go by the time a knock sounded at the door. Peggy opened it to reveal Matthew in the hall, his hat in hand. “Are we ready? I’ve secured the wagon and a few traveling provisions that will tide us over until we arrive.”

  Annabelle’s heart scurried, but she refused to think on what would happen if her northern kin turned them away and they didn’t have enough supplies to take them anywhere else. So she simply nodded instead and gestured for him to enter. “I do not think your brother’s clothes are dry enough for him to wear yet.”

  “This is why I am in my old uniform,” Matthew said as he stepped into the room, his gruff tone laced with an emotion she could not grasp. Did he fear wearing it would put them in danger? It seemed a distinct possibility, but she chose not to stoke his worry. Instead, she frowned as Peggy said the words that were already jumping to her lips.

  “Neither are the clothes you was wearin’. I waited until the last to pack them up,” she said, rubbing the cloth of Matthew’s shirt between her fingers. “But they is still too damp for a man already with a chill.”

  Matthew frowned. “Very well. I will wear them damp, and he can wear the uniform. We will keep him wrapped in blankets and hope no one looks beneath.”

  Annabelle didn’t argue, though she wondered if Matthew wearing damp clothing in the cold would beckon sickness to him. Two sick men might prove more than she and Peggy could handle. However, she said nothing of her concerns and instead helped Peggy carry their bags out into the hallway and let Matthew change both himself and his brother.

  She leaned against the wall to wait, her gaze traveling down the wooden planks of the floor and drifting up to the window at the nearest end of the hall. Leaving Peggy, her skirts swished as she crossed the short distance and looked out at the town below.

  The day had dawned clear and bright, the merry glow of the sun in stark contrast to the clouds that hung over her thoughts. Annabelle angled herself in the window so that she could see the street in front of the inn. She searched the citizens below, studying each one who crossed into her vision and tried to tell if they carried news of a prison break that would soon have law officers scouring the streets in pursuit. Her pulse quickened and she wondered at how she had come to fear men of the law.