Honor Before Heart

by Heather McCorkle

  “As will I,” Fergusson piped in.

  Sean clapped him on the shoulder. “Thank you, my friend. But I need you here to ready the men if the word to march comes.”

  Much more lay behind his reasoning than that, but he couldn’t say so aloud. To do so would harm Fergusson’s ego. The man’s feet were still healing and Sean wouldn’t risk him injuring them worse, not with a pending march looming on the horizon.

  Fergusson winked and gave him a knowing look. “You can count on me, Sarge.”

  Nodding to his friend, Sean walked with Ashlinn toward the edge of the tree line, having to lengthen his stride to keep up.

  “I did as you asked and did not venture anywhere alone. But when I could not find her, I began to get desperate,” Ashlinn said as they walked, though truly the pace was almost a jog.

  “I can see that. You think we’ll find her in the forest again?” He asked the obvious question, for she was leading him there after all.

  Once they had left the tents behind, the clean, damp air became easier to breath. But Sean didn’t dare relax. Enough poplars and birch trees choked the monstrous white oaks to hide the entire Rebel army. Orange, yellow, and red leaves littered the forest floor, but the trunks and branches were numerous enough that a careful soldier could easily conceal himself behind them. The thought made him reach back to touch the stock of the rifle slung over his shoulder.

  “Aye,” Ashlinn mumbled in response as she marched into the forest without hesitation.

  Red oak leaves disturbed by her boots flipped up around her feet, looking like blood splashing on the other fallen leaves. A shudder went through him at the thought. He grabbed her arm and stopped her.

  “Careful now. Rebel scouts could be anywhere out here,” he said softly.

  Her eyes opened wide as she turned toward him. “Then she is in even more danger.”

  She tried to pull away but he held her fast, reaching out to grip her other arm as well. “We’ll find her, don’t fret. But we must be careful.”

  Whether it was his soft voice or pleading tone, he wasn’t sure, but something made the desperation in her eyes fade a bit and he was grateful for it. Swallowing hard and blinking back tears, she nodded. His hand slid down the length of her arm and he wove his fingers through hers. As daring and intimate as the gesture was, he surprised himself by doing so without hesitation or even second-guessing the act. Her palm felt warm and wonderful against his. The state she was in made him feel bad for taking pleasure in her touch at such a moment, until he saw a look of calm come over her.

  With a great amount of effort, he tore his eyes from her magnetic gaze and scanned the forest around them. His keen gaze fell across only the varying shades of brown and white tree trunks. The occasional late bird that hadn’t been driven off by the cooler weather sang from the skeletal treetops. It all looked and sounded harmless enough, but since his time in this war he had learned that nothing was as harmless as it seemed.

  He leaned close to Ashlinn’s ear. “Don’t call for her, ’tis too dangerous. Besides, you won’t need to. She’ll hear our footsteps and smell us.”

  The crease in her brow and downward turn of her lips told him she disagreed, but she nodded anyway. Hand in hand, they crept deeper into the woods, losing light by the minute. As a violinist, the only things Sean knew about tracking was what the war had taught him. Perhaps he should have brought Fergusson along after all. The man had eyes as good as dog’s nose or better. After nearly half an hour of searching he began to feel quite useless, and quite worried about the shadows of twilight crawling across the forest floor. At the edge of one such shadow, something caught his eye.

  Something pale, slightly square in shape, flat, and about the size of a playing card lay atop a bed of red and orange leaves. He bent to inspect it and recognized it immediately. A cracker. The scent it gave off told him it wasn’t just any cracker, but a sweet cracker like the one he had at the ball months ago.

  “What would that be doing out here?” Ashlinn whispered.

  While part of him wanted to believe it was from soldiers on picket duty, he knew better. Sweet crackers like this were a rare treat and if a soldier were lucky enough to have one, he certainly wouldn’t have dropped it and left it behind. Another, darker suspicion began to surface, one that made a lot more sense.

  “I’m afraid someone might be usin’ them to lure Cliste out here.”

  Ashlinn shook her head. “But why? Who?”

  He waited, knowing she would figure it out. Her brow smoothed and her eyes went as cold as a New York winter. “Taylor, that son of a bitch.”

  Shocked, and a little impressed, Sean almost smiled. He shared her sentiment, and then some. If that man was luring Cliste out here it was likely to get her away from Ashlinn so he could approach her unchallenged when Sean wasn’t around. Sean wanted to kill him for it. The force of that desire scared him, considering he didn’t even want to kill Rebel soldiers until they were trying to kill him. But they threatened him; this man threatened something far more precious than Sean’s own life.

  Leaves crunched at a quick pace coming toward them from the left. Rifle swinging around, Sean stepped between Ashlinn and the sound. She pressed up against his back, hands on his shoulders. Was it two people? No, the cadence was wrong. An animal moving swiftly on all fours from the sound of the footfalls. His hammering heart slowed and his finger moved away from the trigger as a huge gray shape bound through the tree trunks toward them.

  Moving around him, Ashlinn went to a knee. “Cliste!” To his relief she said it so softly the name was almost a whisper.

  Tail wagging as if nothing were wrong in her world, Cliste bounded to Ashlinn and promptly licked her face. Ashlinn endured it with a smile, scratching behind the hound’s ears vigorously. Their greeting complete, Ashlinn drew back and shook a finger at Cliste. The hound’s ears lay down and she ducked her head as if ashamed.

  “You have got to stop runnin’ off, girl. We are in the middle of a war here,” she chastised quietly.

  A crawling sensation began to work its way up Sean’s spine. Rather than turn his head and look around them, he smiled at the pair as if nothing were amiss and tried to see out of his peripheral vision. No movement nor even a sound revealed itself, but the feeling remained. He had come to trust that feeling, a soldier’s intuition some of the men called it, and he wasn’t about to discount it now. Feigning ignorance, he went to scratch Cliste, whose eyes were now darting about.

  “Let’s go, girl. Time to get back,” he said, hoping she took the hint to be discreet, if dogs could do such a thing.

  She bounded in the direction of the camp at an easy pace that would quickly outdistance them, considering the length of her gangly legs. Trying to scan the area as casually as possible, he took Ashlinn’s hand and started after Cliste. The smile he pasted on wasn’t all for show. He was glad they had found the hound before whoever was making the skin along the back of his neck prickle did.

  “We’d best keep up with her,” he said with a laugh that he hoped sounded genuine.

  The gleam of happiness left Ashlinn’s eyes and the corners of her smile wilted, but only a little. She accepted his arm with an enthusiasm that he could only tell was faked because he knew her so well. Her head remained pointed in the direction they traveled, but her eyes darted from side to side.

  “We should indeed. We do not want to lose her again,” she said with false cheer.

  Her hip brushed his as she pulled him closer than was necessary and picked up a brisk pace that had him lengthening his stride to keep up with. Bumps rose along the exposed skin of her arm and he had a suspicion it wasn’t because of the dropping temperature. Clearly, she had either felt the presence of someone else in the forest as well or had picked up on the fact that he had. He loved that rare quality about her, that intelligence that had no doubt kept her alive so long during this war.

  As they quickly left the forest behind and started across the
open field, he couldn’t help but shiver as the skin of his back prickled with warning. Several agonizingly long moments later, they finally entered the safety of the tents. He would be having a very serious conversation with Taylor on the morrow. For now, he only wanted to get Ashlinn somewhere safe and warm.

  Chapter 22

  The bad feeling that came over Ashlinn in the woods only grew worse upon waking and discovering the regiment was packing up and marching yet again. Word among the nurses and doctors was that they were headed to Culpepper, a blessedly short distance away. In her breeches and wool coat, hair wound into a bun tucked beneath her cap, she prepared for her trek.

  When she had loaded her trunk and tent onto the supply wagon, Abigail had asked her to join the other nurses there, but she had politely refused. It wasn’t because some would look upon her unfavorably for riding with the Negro nurses; she couldn’t care less about what others thought. Walking helped keep her blood flowing, kept her warm. More importantly right now, though, it allowed her to keep a better eye on Cliste. She wasn’t about to let the wayward hound out of her sight. And it didn’t hurt that she might get a chance to see Sean’s company marching in the distance.

  The temperature felt barely above freezing, but the longer she walked, the more she warmed up. Clouds threatened rain but never quite unleashed it, as if they were waiting for the perfect moment. Marching pace was a bit slower than she wanted to go right now, but she kept back alongside the nurse’s wagon as best she could. Not knowing what they were walking into, she wanted to stay close to both her friend and her medical supplies. She was happy to leave Falmouth behind, regardless of their short stay. The only thing she regretted was not having had the chance to confront Dr. Taylor about luring Cliste into the woods. Once the march was over, she planned to make that her first task.

  They had nearly reached Culpepper when the regiment veered south and kept marching. Ashlinn watched the steeple of a church poking up through the bare trees as it faded away in the distance. For a while, she clung to the hope that they were merely marching toward a suitable camp, but that hope faded with each minute that passed. Much to her relief, they came across no resistance. Hours later, as the sun darkened the evening sky, they crested a small hill and the whole of the Union army stretched out before them like white moths across a cream and brown landscape. So many tents…just beyond them wound the bank of the Rappahannock River.

  Across that murky brown water she could just make out the first buildings on the outskirts of what one soldier told her was Fredericksburg. Apparently, the general had either changed his mind or had taken them purposefully on a detour. Either way, relief made her knees weak as the first lines of the 69th regiment began to set up camp. It had been a short march, but she was still exhausted from the grueling one they had finished only a few days ago. Which meant the soldiers, who had no wagon in which to rest, were no doubt in worse shape. After helping set up Abigail’s tent and then her own, she took up her medical bag and went to check on the men with Cliste in tow.

  Being one of the last regiments to arrive, the 69th was setting up camp farther back from the river. Normally Ashlinn liked being close to bodies of water so she had easier access for cooking, cleaning, and bathing. But the amount of soldiers here—numbering in the tens of thousands—gave her a bad feeling. The way the tents faced the river and the sheer amount of soldiers on picket duty along it made her suspect the river had a key part to play in what was going to unfold.

  The urge to rush to find Sean wasn’t as strong as it usually was, but then, this was one of the shortest marches they had been on so far. And it didn’t hurt that they had seen no resistance. She took her time seeing to the men of the 69th, ensuring they were all properly cleaning their wounds and had poultice for their blisters. So many of the faces were new to her that she couldn’t immediately recall all of their names. They died so quickly it was hard to keep up with the new recruits. But despite the cap and breeches, most knew her on sight. Those few survivors that did remain were quick to teach the new ones to respect her for all she did for them. They were good Irish lads, every one of them.

  As they listened to her instructions intently, laughed, and played with Cliste, her mind kept picturing them dead and dismembered. This place had such a bad feel to it that she couldn’t stop such morbid fears from manifesting. Their kindness touched her so deeply that it threatened to choke her up, but she soldiered through it. Such loyalty instilled a deep sense of pride within her, making her want to be strong for them.

  “There’s the best doc the 69th has ever seen” came Fergusson’s voice from behind her.

  She turned to see both Fergusson and Sean striding toward her. Almost too late, she remembered to tone down her smile so she didn’t look like a smitten fool. Thankfully, Cliste bound toward the men, drawing attention from her.

  “And there is the most flattering corporal the 69th has ever seen,” she answered.

  Laughing deeply, Fergusson bowed his head to her. “Guilty as charged.”

  One hand perched upon her hip; she narrowed her gaze at him. “Mmmhmm. Guilty, no doubt. Have you been caring for those blisters as I instructed?”

  Fergusson straightened and drew a cross in the air above his heart. “O’ course, Doc O’Brian. I’m a good patient, remember?”

  “Well, you had best be getting off your feet soon or you will prove that statement wrong. I want you to rest those feet before”—she gestured around them—“all this comes to a head.”

  His short mustache drooped a bit as his smile faded, but he recovered quickly enough with another bow. “As you instruct.”

  He strode over to a group of soldiers outside of a tent and sat down on one of the vacant logs among them. Her gaze shifted back to Sean, who began to rise from where he’d been crouched to scratch Cliste. From beneath too-long brown hair, his eyes regarded her with sadness. She pretended not to see it as he offered her his arm.

  “May I escort you on your rounds?” he asked.

  She shook her head but accepted his arm. “I am finished with my rounds, but you may escort me safely back to my tent.”

  As he bowed his head, tipping his face in her direction, she saw a sexy smile that was meant for her eyes only. “That would be wise, as there are a lot of other regiments here and not all of them may treat a lady as honorably as the 69th would.”

  Much as she hated to, she gently extracted her arm from his as they began to walk. “True, but ’tis best not to betray my disguise.”

  He cocked his head. “So there is a drawback to you in those breeches.”

  Eyes widening, she gave him a coy look. “Are you insinuating that there are advantages other than those I am aware of?”

  Though he kept walking, his eyes closed for a moment as if in indulgence. “Insinuating. How can you make a word sound so delicious?”

  She smacked him in the chest, trying to ignore how the hard feel of his chest made muscles in her lower abdomen tighten. He laughed, the sound having nearly the same effect on her.

  “Oh aye, there are definitely advantages aplenty,” he said.

  Out of habit, they walked toward the outskirts of the encampment, gravitating toward somewhere more private. The light of a cloud-filtered afternoon sun gave the encampment a false softness that Ashlinn found very ironic.

  When they were away from curious ears, she finally asked the question that had been burning within her since they’d veered away from Culpepper. “Why is the entire army here?”

  Sean sighed long and deep. “To take Richmond, but first we have to get through the forces at Fredericksburg.”

  The shock nearly stilled Ashlinn’s feet. She had to force herself to keep walking. “But ’tis a town filled with innocents, not just soldiers.”

  Pain flashed across Sean’s face as his features pinched. “Aye, I know. But taking it will give us a tactical advantage that General Burnside thinks will help lead us to a major victory.” From the forced sound of his wor
ds, it was clear he did not agree.

  Ashlinn wanted to touch him, hold his hand, show her support for him in some way, but she didn’t dare, not with so many strangers around. The expression on his face told her he didn’t want to harm the citizens of the town any more than she did.

  “Perhaps the townsfolk will evacuate,” she suggested.

  He nodded, leading them a bit farther away from the last line of tents toward a massive willow tree. “Some of the men on picket duty report seein’ people leavin’ the town, but as they leave, Reb soldiers move in on the other side of the river.” Words halting, he looked deeply into her eyes, as if contemplating how much more to say.

  “Anything you tell me will not be repeated, Sean, have no worries,” she coaxed gently.

  The smile he gave her said he figured as much. “There are only forty thousand or so Rebs on the other side. If we can cross soon, chances are they may not even resist.”

  Hope blossomed in her chest, a warm, dangerous thing. “How wonderful would it be if the final battle of this war was won without a single shot?”

  Fast as a water snake, his hand darted out, grabbed her arm, and pulled her behind the willow tree. Grinning like a misbehaving lad, he pressed her against the tree trunk and placed his hands to either side of her head.

  “Almost as wonderful as this,” he whispered as he leaned closer.

  His soft lips covered hers and suddenly the war melted away. Nothing mattered but his body pressing against hers, the heat of his flesh finding its way through all their layers of clothing, even their wool coats. That warmth caused her nipples to harden when even the cold hadn’t. Her reaction to him made her curious, excited, and intrigued. Sighing into his mouth, she wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him as close as she could. She wanted to experience more of him and these wondrous sensations, but he drew away all too soon.

  Thunder rumbled overhead, shaking the ground ever so slightly. Had he sensed the thunder? Was that why he drew away? Eyes still half-closed, breath coming too fast, she tried to gather her senses. Oddly, Sean wasn’t looking at her; his head was turned and his gaze cast out. Following his eyes, she saw the distant gray shape of Cliste bounding through the tree-dotted field away from them.