In the Morning Sun (Hearts at War Book 2)

by Lena Hart

  In the Morning Sun

  American Historical Romance

  Lena Hart

  IN THE MORNING SUN

  Copyright © 2017

  Originally published in the Daughters of a Nation anthology.

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  E-book ISBN: 978-1-941885-45-1

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  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission, except in the case of brief passages embodied in critical reviews and articles.

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  Illustration art by Taria Reed

  Contents

  IN THE MORNING SUN

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  I. BONUS EXCERPT

  From the Author

  Hearts at War series

  Books by Lena Hart

  About the Author

  With the election of 1868 underway, Madeline Asher’s mission is clear: educate and enlist the freedmen of Nebraska to vote. After losing the man she loved to war—and a small piece of herself along the way—Madeline leaves her life in Philadelphia behind, determined to reclaim her life’s purpose by making a difference in others.

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  With America’s Southern Rebellion at an end, so are the efforts of Union veteran James Blakemore. Tired of the injustices still plaguing the young country, he sets his sights toward his Canadian roots—until fate guides him back to the love he thought he’d lost.

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  Vowing never to leave her side again, James joins Madeline in her cause to help the freedmen of Dunesville, despite rising threats and violence. But with Nebraska’s anti-miscegenation laws in effect, Madeline is forced to choose between a life with her new husband or the chance to shape a greater nation.

  For the mothers and daughters, fathers and sons, who fought for our right to vote—and who continue to fight for our unalienable rights to life, liberty, love and happiness.

  “So close is the bond between man and woman that you cannot raise one without lifting the other.”

  Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

  Prologue

  June 1866

  Chicago, IL

  “I can’t go through with this. I won’t.”

  “Madeline, you can’t just…run off. Where do you plan to go? What about Mr. Mercer? And Mrs. Dobson?”

  Madeline Asher stared at her travel companion, the uneasiness in Gracie Shaw’s incredulous tone almost making her reconsider.

  Almost.

  “I’ll figure something out,” Madeline said. “But I can’t marry that man. Not when my heart still belongs to my Jimmy.”

  Sympathy flashed across Gracie’s pretty brown face, though her obvious concern did nothing to ease the panic churning in Madeline’s stomach. She just wanted Gracie to return to the hospital where their chaperone Mrs. Dobson lay indisposed with an extreme case of cholera.

  “Madeline, I can only imagine your pain, but you’re going to have to let it go. Jimmy is gone, but I’m sure he would want you to find someone else to love again. To be happy with.”

  Maybe so, but Madeline wasn’t ready to let go yet. She certainly wouldn’t find love in Montana, where they had been headed before Mrs. Dobson had fallen ill.

  Madeline didn’t know what had possessed her to agree to the arranged marriage clear across the country, with a man nearly twenty years her senior. Their stop in Chicago, however, had given her a clarity she had been missing since her sister shipped her off to New York to work for Mrs. Dobson as an assistant in her school.

  Madeline wasn’t going to find her purpose in this life by marrying a man she didn’t know. She certainly didn’t have room in her heart for a man who hadn’t bothered to send her one personal correspondence. How could she love another? Her core was already filled with loving memories of the man who had gone off to fight for a cause greater than themselves.

  “That is why I have to go,” Madeline said more to herself than Gracie. “I know I won’t be happy marrying some stranger and I can’t give myself to a man I don’t love.”

  Frustration was plain in the heavy breath Gracie blew out. It took a bit more convincing on Madeline’s part to remove the doubt and concern from Gracie’s dark eyes. But after a few desperate pleas and a promise to write Mrs. Dobson and her would-be husband as soon as she arrived back to New York, Madeline managed to convince Gracie to let her be.

  Except, Madeline wasn’t going back to New York, but that was a small detail she didn’t plan to share with her travel companion.

  Before Madeline turned to the waiting train, she surprised Gracie with a quick hug. They hadn’t been close, but Gracie had always been kind to her during her brief stay in their small New York community.

  “Thank you, Gracie. I pray you find your happiness out there.”

  Clutching her satchel close to her chest, Madeline eventually made her way into the train, leaving an anxious-looking Gracie on the train platform. Madeline settled down on a bench in the last car of the train and watched as the green fields rolled past her.

  Though she was eager to return home to Pennsylvania, Madeline didn’t have a clear idea of what her next move would be once she got there. With slavery finally at an end, the next course for change was obtaining equal rights for women—and remaining idle had never been in Madeline’s character.

  She would just have to convince her sister Elaine that her future didn’t have to be reduced to just becoming some man’s wife, as Madeline’s idol, Frances Harper, had written about. Then again, that sentiment may not go over too well, seeing as her older sister had settled into a life of domesticity and appeared content with that.

  There was only one man Madeline had ever considered becoming a wife to and he was dead. Grief curdled in her belly at the thought of Jimmy. No matter how much time had passed, she couldn’t seem to accept it.

  Madeline pulled out the last letter he had sent her, along with a carte de visite of him wearing his new officer’s uniform. She had kept both close to her heart, had studied his handsome face in the miniature portrait, and had reread his letter until she had it committed to memory.

  She stared down at the small card photograph now. His expression was serious but there was a fire in his eyes that embodied the kind of man he was—compassionate, honest, and incredibly braze. He had been the kind of man to stand up and die for what he believed and she knew that side of him well. There was no doubt in her mind that he had died courageously on some ravaged battlefield.

  Madeline’s eyes welled with tears and she blinked them away. She unfolded the brief letter, the bold strokes of his handwriting offering her an odd, yet pleasant sense of comfort. As she had done so many times, she read over his final words to her—words that read like poetry but always left her aching for a future that would never exist…

  “My dearest Maddie, I never cease thinking about you. With each day that comes, I see your face in the morning sun, and it fills me with renewed life and hope that we will soon be together again. When that day comes, we will take that journey to Horseshoe Falls, and I promise you, my love, I will never leave your side again.”

  Madeline carefully refolded the letter. It was dated two years ago, on September twenty-fourth, yet it had b
een on a particularly frigid November when the letter had arrived to her. Three months later, she had received notice of his death. That journey to those majestic Canadian falls he had told her so much about would never come.

  For the first time in months, she let the tears fall. They offered her a small comfort, allowing her to release the anguish of her overwhelming loss. She knew she would have to eventually let him go. But not tonight… Tonight, she would hold onto the memory of his love and light just a little while longer.

  Madeline eventually fell into a fitful sleep, her satchel clutched tightly to her chest. It was dusk when the train finally pulled into the Philadelphia train station. She hopped out of the train, along with the other passengers and surveyed her surroundings. The enormity of what she’d done—and the position she’d put herself in—suddenly hit her when she found herself alone and without any money to get her to her sister’s home.

  Well, there’s no turning back now.

  Resigned to that unavoidable fact, Madeline started the long walk to Elaine’s. There was a bit of activity buzzing around the streets, which made the journey less intimidating. It had been a while since she’d made the trip to her sister’s place, a trip she certainly had never made by foot. And if Madeline had gotten her way, she wouldn’t be headed there now. But their father’s death last year had only motivated her sister to “unburden” herself by selling their family home and sending Madeline off to New York.

  Ten minutes into her journey, Madeline realized nothing looked familiar. She continued on, hoping she would recognize something soon, but the longer she walked, the more isolated and deserted the streets became. Somewhere back, she had taken a wrong turn and a slow hum of panic began to buzz inside her.

  She immediately squashed the feeling. Nothing good would come from falling into hysteria.

  Right before she reached another crossroad, Madeline turned and began to retrace her steps. She came upon two men in uniform, their dark, navy-blue Union coats recognizable from where she stood. The taller of the two had his back to her, but the tapered ends of his dark-brown hair peeking from beneath his wool cap held a familiarity that made her heart stop.

  It couldn’t be…

  Without thinking, Madeline rushed toward the man and grabbed his arm. “Jimmy!”

  The man turned, astonishment in his brown eyes.

  Not green eyes.

  Her small bubble of hope burst as swiftly as it had inflated.

  “I’m sorry,” Madeline stammered to the stranger, her face heating up with embarrassment. “I thought you were…never mind.”

  She started to back away, too humiliated to continue her explanation. But before she could dash off, the man grabbed her arm.

  “Are you lost, miss?”

  Madeline glanced from him to his friend, the two assessing her with an intense curiosity that she hoped was on account of her being a colored woman dressed in fancy skirts and boots—all provided by her wealthy would-be husband in Montana—and not because she was a woman traveling alone.

  Madeline pulled her arm out of the man’s grip and fixed her gaze on him. At least he had manners enough to release her without challenge.

  “I seem to be a bit turned around. I’m looking for Franklin Road.”

  The taller man whistled. “You took a wrong turn, darling. Franklin’s back that way.”

  Madeline followed the direction where he pointed, relieved that it wasn’t as far off as she’d believed.

  “My friend and I were actually headed that way. We’d be happy to escort you there.”

  From the sharp look his friend shot him, he didn’t appear pleased by the sudden offer.

  “That’s all right,” Madeline murmured. “No need to trouble yourselves.”

  “It would be no trouble at all, miss…”

  “Madeline.”

  The man’s smile widened. “Pretty name. My name’s Ryan. And this here’s Paul. A fine woman like yourself shouldn’t be out here alone. May I?”

  Madeline glanced down at his outstretched hand, then back up at his gentle smile. With a brief moment of hesitation, she handed him her travel bag. He started down the path toward Franklin, and Madeline fell into step beside him. His friend followed behind them, a frown still marring his round face.

  “So where are you traveling from, Miss Madeline?”

  “I’m on my way to visit with my sister,” she said instead, not wanting to think about the future she had deserted. She indulged in the man’s small talk during their short walk, listening as he whimsically spoke of home. They may have walked a block and a half before she realized they were headed in the wrong direction.

  “Sir, I think we may have missed our turn.”

  Suddenly, Ryan stopped and released a loud sigh. “Now that I think about it, Paul and I may be just as lost ourselves.”

  Madeline tilted her head in confusion. Then realization struck her as he threw her travel bag to his friend. He caught it with one fluid motion, his frown intensifying.

  Her heart sank. She was being robbed, and there was nothing she could do to stop them.

  “See if she has anything nice in there, Paul.”

  His friend stared down at the bag, dumbfounded. “What the hell for?”

  “Something tells me this fancy Negro has enough to spare.” Ryan grabbed her arm and jerked her close. “Don’t you, darling?”

  Madeline stood there, frozen. All she could do was shake her head numbly, while her insides shook with panic.

  “She doesn’t have anything in here, Ryan.” His friend threw down her bag as if the strap seared his palm. “Now, let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “She has something.” Anger and frustration darkened his features and he released her long enough to retrieve the bag.

  Her instincts took over. Gathering her skirts, Madeline turn and fled. Her booted heel snapped against the cobbled road with a fierceness that matched her racing heart. She darted down the dark road, praying the panic coursing through her wouldn’t let her legs buckle beneath her.

  But with all her determination, she didn’t get far.

  Strong, rough hands grabbed her by the waist and lifted her high.

  “Oh no, you don’t, missy. My friend and I fought hard for you people. We deserve to get something for it.”

  Madeline wanted to scream but the large lump in her throat kept all sounds lodged there. Using what strength she had, she kicked and clawed at her captor, but her struggles were in vain. With surprising ease, the man managed to pin her arms at her sides then lifted her high against his chest.

  “Paul! Grab her legs.”

  Madeline kicked out but strong hands wrapped around her ankles and held them firm. In that moment, she found the unspeakable strength and drive to belt out a scream. The shrill sound barely pierced through the quiet night air before Ryan had his hand clamped over her mouth and nose.

  “Goddamn you! Shut up.”

  His tight grip over her face was suffocating her and she barely held on to consciousness as they carried her further into the night shadows. Through the dull thudding in her ears, Madeline could hear the earnestness in Paul’s voice.

  “Ryan, let’s just leave her here. She doesn’t have anything.”

  “Yeah, she does. Now shut up, and put her down here.”

  It wasn’t until she felt the hard, flat surface against her back that Madeline realized they had dragged her into a dark, abandoned building. From the short ends of the table, she realized they held her down on a desk. The windows were boarded and the stench of old wood and dust were distinct.

  Ryan grabbed her wrists and jerked them above her head. “Come here and tie her hands.”

  Paul released her ankles but instead of following his friend’s directive, he began to slowly back away from her. Ryan glanced over at his friend then cursed.

  “What the hell are you waiting for?”

  Paul shook his head. “I don’t want any part of this.”

  With another curse, Ryan
bound her hands with something rough and heavy. The gravity of her situation came crashing down on her and Madeline thought she would suffocate from it.

  “Help me, please!”

  Those were the last words she spoke before he stuffed a coarse rag between her teeth. She tried to scream but it only brought the rough cloth deeper into her mouth.

  Guilt and uncertainty clouded Paul’s pale face, before he turned and fled, taking with him any shred of mercy she had silently hoped for.

  “Goddamn yellow-belly.” Ryan jerked up her skirts and stared down at her. “Guess that means more for me.”

  A heavy cloak of shame came over her and Madeline shut her eyes from the humiliation. Ignoring the blunt fingers that dug into her thighs, she stole away inside herself.

  She conjured up memories of a crooked smile, dancing green eyes, and a handsome face that took her into a ravine full of happy memories—to a place as deep as Horseshoe Falls, where she could remember and preserve a part of herself.

  And no one, not even the monster grunting above her, could touch.

  Chapter One

  August, 1868

  Southwestern Nebraska

  “You’re a dangerous woman, Miss Madeline Asher.”

  Madeline sheathed the small knife into the holder strapped around her wrist. “Better to be a dangerous one then a dead one,” she muttered, tugging down the long sleeve of her dress to conceal it.

  “What do you plan to do with that gun?”