Martinsburg

The sound intensified, a keening wail that knifed through her very bones and caused them to quiver. All of Evelyn’s eighteen years narrowed into sharp focus—a childhood spent in the company of various relatives, followed by years of study at Washington Female College meant to prepare her to be a proper lady fit to run a husband’s household. Disjointed memories of an oft-absent father converged upon her senses, pricked with the veiled tolerance of those he’d thrust her upon.

In that moment, when her aunt and cousins’ horrified screams pierced through her mental fog and the reality of her actions slammed into her heart, Evelyn knew she would never be the same. The passive girl who’d sought to blend into the walls had shattered when the wolves invaded.

Daddy had been right. She could be brave. Now, for once, perhaps she could finally make him proud. She must never again let her guard down, not for an instant, or she would most surely find herself at their mercy. Defiance settled in her chest like a heavy weight. She would accept what came next. They would demand blood for blood.

She was ready.

“Only cowards shoot women.” Evelyn flung her arms wide. “Now, shoot!”

She shut her eyes and waited for the pain to come. For cowards they most surely were, fiends who preyed upon helpless women and children under the guise of war.

Lara’s whimpers quieted, and in the lull that followed, Evelyn listened to the quick intake of jagged breaths. She opened one eye, and then the other. The brute lay at her feet, alive and clutching his chest. His companions followed her gaze and, in so doing, must have come to their senses as well.

In a sudden surge of awareness, one man shouted orders and another wrenched Aunt Mary’s heavy velvet curtain from the window. With it they fashioned a makeshift litter and stretched the cloth underneath the fallen man. They hoisted him from the four corners and then abandoned the house.

Evelyn stood there for moments that seemed to stretch into eternity as she willed her trembling to cease. She’d done it to protect them. If she hadn’t acted he would have…

She’d done the right thing. Hadn’t she?

She retrieved the weapon from the floor. Evelyn turned to look upon her aunt, who returned her gaze with an odd mixture of horror and appreciation, and then slipped the pistol into her pocket. She drew a long breath and closed her eyes. Let the consequences come. At least her cousin had not suffered a manner of violation that would ruin her.

Arms slipped around her waist and pulled her tight, and Isabella’s customary scent of rose water still found its way into Evelyn’s nostrils even under the shroud of sweat and fear.

“Thank you, cousin.” Isabella clung to her with a fierceness her cool demeanor had never once demonstrated. “He wanted…wanted to…” Her voice dissolved into a sob.

Evelyn returned the unexpected embrace, feeling stronger. “There now. You’re all right. We’ll be on guard every moment and—”

Lizzy’s screech pulled her from her attempts at comfort.

“Mistress! Oh, Mistress, they’s goin’ to burn the house! They’s piling stuff against it!” The maid fanned her face, her wide eyes darting around the room as though at any moment the flames would engulf them.

Evelyn set her teeth and stepped away from Isabella.

“Oh, Mistress! What we goin’ do?”

Aunt Mary fanned herself. “Fetch my writing box. I will send immediate word to their commander. Surely such lawlessness will not be tolerated.”

Lizzy seemed apprehensive but hurried up the stairs.

Evelyn turned back to Isabella. “Go tell Able to get ready. He’ll need to run the message for us post haste.”

Isabella blinked rapidly. “What?”

“I said—”

“I know what you said,” she snapped, the color in her face returning and making her cheeks a mottled red. “But since when do you think yourself in a position to order me about? It’s bad enough you started giving directions to Lizzy.”

Evelyn’s mouth fell agape. “Now, Isabella, take hold of yourself.” Isabella had suffered a shock. She merely unleashed her fear and anger in the wrong direction.

Isabella crossed her arms. “I will not let this madness make you—”

“Enough!”

At Aunt Mary’s sharp word, they both quieted.

Aunt Mary rubbed her temples, suddenly seeming much older. “Isabella, this is not the time for this discussion. Your cousin is right. We must have the missive delivered quickly. Hopefully, it will be in time to save our home.”

Isabella cast another hard look at Evelyn and strode from the room with a stiff spine. Her cousin acted out of fear and not rational thought. Surely Isabella did not direct the loathing burning in her eyes toward Evelyn. It was meant only for this horrid situation.

“Aunt Mary, I think we should start gathering things and—”

“No!”

Evelyn stared at her, then dared further. “Didn’t you hear what she said?” When Aunt Mary didn’t respond, Evelyn stepped closer. “We can’t stay here. They’re going to burn the house.”

Aunt Mary lifted her chin, the look in her eyes not unlike what had clouded Isabella’s. “I do not expect you to understand, but this house has been in my husband’s family for two generations. I’ll not abandon it. They simply will not burn a house with ladies inside. We need only to send word to an officer. A gentleman will not stand for this outrage and will come to our aid.”

Evelyn snapped her teeth together. They would not burn…? Had her aunt already forgotten what had almost happened to Isabella? Well, if Aunt Mary wished to delude herself into thinking this situation called for customary genteel proprieties, then Evelyn would have to take charge once more.

Without another look at Aunt Mary, Evelyn stepped over the scattered ruins of the front door and out onto the porch. The sea of blue now thinned to a mere trickle, and the few remaining Yanks on the street paid her no heed.

To her left, the Grady’s house appeared untouched. Three homes on the other side of the street seemed to have fared no better than Aunt Mary’s, broken windows a testament to the army’s devastation. Had they chosen randomly, or had they sought out the homes of Southern sympathizers?

She lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the dipping sun and scanned the lawn. No one gathered rushes or limbs. Perhaps Lizzy had been mistaken in a fit of terror.

A scraping sound drew her attention, and Evelyn stepped down and made her way past Aunt Mary’s hydrangeas and to the side of the house. There she found two men neatly stacking boughs against the wooden slats of the house.

“Hold!”

The men paused in their foul deed to look up at her for an instant before resuming their task. A fellow with short, dark hair stacked the sticks in his arms against the house and then accepted another from his companion. The second, a man of short stature and an unappealing face, stuffed leaves into the crevices.

Driven by desperation, Evelyn lifted her wide skirts and stomped her way across the lawn. “Did you not hear? Stop this madness at once!”

The taller one narrowed his eyes. “You must be the one who shot him.”

Forcing her tongue to work against the dryness in her mouth, Evelyn spoke calmly. “And I suppose I was to stand idly by while a robber disguised as a soldier sought inexcusable liberties with my cousin?”

To their credit, they had the manners to appear embarrassed. The dark-haired one stared at the ground while the other looked everywhere but at her.

She flung her arm wide. “Is this what we can expect from the Federal Army? Marauders who ravish and burn helpless women?”

The short one blanched. “Miss! We are not—”

“Not what?” Her words came out in clipped measure. “You are not wonton men who, upon not being satisfied with their victory on the battlefield, then decided to burn the homes of defenseless women and children?”

The taller one frowned and Evelyn stepped closer, the burning in her blood scalding away her fear. “Blackguards!”

He snarled and turned to resume his task, slinging another stick against the house with a solid crack.

Slowly, she pulled the pistol free from her dress and lifted it. “As you already know, I’m capable of using this.”

The men stilled. Evelyn lifted the gun higher, not sure now what she planned to do with it. Shooting one man had been little more than a frantic mistake. What would Daddy say if he saw her like this? Would he be horrified? Or pleased she’d learned something from his lesson?

The gun wavered in her hand, and she used the other to brace it. What if they both lunged at her instead of running away? She’d have to shoot the tall one first. Perhaps in the knee. She didn’t want to kill him. Her gaze drifted to the other man. If the first one fell, she might have a better chance staving off the second one. With his porcine face and shifty eyes, she doubted he would pose as much of a threat.

The short one’s gaze suddenly darted away from the pistol and over Evelyn’s shoulder.

Before she could turn to see, something slammed into her. The pistol flew from her grasp, and she struck the ground with a crunching sound she hoped only came from the boning in her skirts. She tried to expand her protesting ribs, but a heavy weight landed on top of her, grinding her face into the dirt.

She struggled but could not dislodge it. Raw panic surged. Evelyn found her breath and screamed.

Her attacker grunted and rolled off, allowing the boning in her skirts to spring free, exposing everything beneath them to anyone who stood behind. Mortified at her indignity, Evelyn scrambled to her knees to hide herself beneath the spread of fabric. Her breathing came so rapidly she felt dizzy. She forced herself to calm. She could not succumb to flutters and leave herself helpless.

Her gaze darted across the grass. The miscreant who’d fallen on her rolled to his knees and scooped her pocket pistol from the ground. He smothered its pearl handle beneath his meaty paw and cast her a crooked grin. She summoned her anger and fanned its flame, finding its heat preferable to the bitter cold of terror. She glared at him.

“Much obliged,” the short man with the pudgy face said, running a hand across the back of his neck. “We appreciate you not letting her shoot us.”

Evelyn remained still as the men stared at one another and then down at her. What would they do now?

The man holding her uncle’s pistol rose and tucked the weapon under his belt. “I happened to be passing by and saw her take aim.” He shook his head as though he were sorely ashamed. “These rebel women have been giving us all kinds of trouble.”

Evelyn produced a most unladylike snort, and their attention shifted to her once more. “And what, sir, do you think your northern women would do if their homes were invaded and all manner of outrage was sought against them?”

The man tipped his cap back and studied her, then shrugged. “Probably not leap to shooting.”

Evelyn scoffed at his idiocy. “No appeal to a gentlemanly nature was heeded. Words not even a fallen woman should hear were showered upon the innocent. Then those men sought to commit the most horrendous of crimes against women. Surely you can see how any woman could become distraught under such circumstances.”

His gaze held not the first touch of sympathy, nor did any of them show proper shame at having a lady at his feet. None had offered to help her up. Defeated, she wrapped her arms around her middle and lowered her head. Perhaps she could at least distract them long enough to keep them from burning the house while Aunt Mary sent a missive.

Though, if the men she’d thus far encountered were indicative of the whole of the army, she doubted the officer in charge of this chaos would offer much aid. She sat there for some time while the sun sank, sending the final rays of dusk to creep across the lawn and dip her farther into shadows.

The men exchanged names and company information, blessedly ignoring both her and the house. Evelyn tried to remain as still as possible so as not to garner their attention, but her petticoats and underpinnings were damp and her knees ached from being held beneath her. She shifted slightly and dared a glance up at them, but the men had fallen into some lively conversation and paid her no attention. Perhaps she could stretch her legs out…

“What’s the meaning of this?”

A booming voice cut through the men’s laughter, and immediately the three soldiers snapped their heels together and drew up tall. Evelyn turned to see a distinguished man stalk into the yard. She let her gaze drift from the newcomer’s polished boots, up his stark blue pants, over a belted jacket, and finally to a staunch, stern face with a refined nose and neatly combed hair.

Had he come in response to Aunt Mary’s missive?

He returned her gaze. “I received a report that a lady of this house shot Private Meadows.”

Her insides twisted. Of course he hadn’t come to save the house. He’d come to arrest her. Choosing her words carefully, as they would surely decide her fate, Evelyn gave a solemn nod. “I felt it was the only course of action that would keep him from…” Her voice hitched. She cleared her throat. “Sir, your men broke down our door, spoke rude remarks and threatened a huddle of frightened women, and then that man who was shot, your Private Meadows, put his hands upon my cousin and sought to ruin her.”

The man’s face contorted, and he looked sharply at the men behind her. “And these men were present during this offense?”

“No, sir. These are the men who arrived just after and conspired to burn the house.”

“Jones!” the man roared, not removing his steely gaze from the stony men.

Another soldier jogged around the side of the house and snapped his hand up to his face before standing at attention. “Yes, sir?”

“Remove these soldiers and have them await my instruction.”

“Yes, sir!”

Evelyn watched in disbelief as the officer called for other soldiers and more men in blue swarmed about the house. They dispersed from the yard with the offenders in tow, the one who’d knocked her to the ground complaining he hadn’t been trying to burn anything.

When they were gone, the officer extended his hand.

“I’m afraid, sir, that it will take more assistance to remove me from the ground.” Her cheeks warmed. “I cannot get myself righted in my hooped skirts, and some of the feeling has gone from my feet.”

Compassion sprang to his eyes, and with as much dignity as possible for such a humiliation, he reached under her arms and lifted her to her feet. She found it necessary to cling to him for a moment until she thought she could stand on her own, and then stepped away.

“I thank you, sir. Both for your assistance and for taking those men away.”

He offered his arm. “If you will come inside, miss…?

“Mapleton.”

“I have some questions for you.”

Evelyn allowed him to guide her back into the house, where her aunt and cousins sat nervously in the parlor. What had they been doing all this time while Evelyn sat on the lawn? Aunt Mary’s eyes widened as Evelyn entered on the officer’s arm, but Isabella kept her gaze trained on the carpets. Little Lara clutched a rag doll to her chest and stared at Evelyn in horror.

“Ladies,” the officer said, removing his arm from Evelyn’s grasp and indicating she should select a seat. “I’m General Patterson. It’s my understanding that an unfortunate event occurred with some of my men, resulting in the wounding of Private Fredrick Meadows.”

Wounded? Evelyn’s heart fluttered. She hadn’t killed him?

As though sensing her question, General Patterson sought her gaze. “The bullet landed in his shoulder, and the surgeons are tending it. If gangrene doesn’t take him, he should survive.”

More relief than she should feel for the rapscallion flooded her heart.

“Now, madam,” he said, indicating that Aunt Mary should rise. “Would you recount the events that occurred?”

Aunt Mary fiddled with the broach at her throat as she told the ghastly tale. When she’d finished, he posed the same question to Isabella.

Isabella’s eyes filled with tears. “It’s as Mother said. That horrible man and his fellows spoke to us in a most crude manner, and then he put himself upon my person with the intent to ruin me.”

“Forgive me, but, how exactly do you know that was his intention?”

Isabella’s face crumpled, and she turned away.

“He wrapped his arms around her,” Evelyn interjected, “hauled her against his body, and was in the midst of attempting to put his mouth upon hers when I called out for him to stop.”

The general gave a small nod. “You warned him you would shoot?”

“I told him to stop and had my gun aimed at him. I’m rather certain he understood my meaning.”

“Yet, you shot him anyway.”

A surge of fear swelled, but she forced it down. “He had the audacity to grin at me, and then tried to proceed with his vile intent despite my warning. So, yes, I shot him.”

General Patterson studied her for so long that Evelyn had to bolster every smidgen of her courage not to wither under his gaze. “Given your reasoning,” he finally said, “I shall declare this a closed matter.”

Her breath left her lungs in a wave of relief.

The general tugged his wide brimmed hat down upon his head. “And to be certain that such an event does not occur again,”—he sought and held Evelyn’s gaze—“I will place sentries about the house for your…security.”

His words indicated protection, but his tone seemed to hold another meaning. Evelyn frowned, though Aunt Mary did not seem concerned.

He quickly turned on his heel and left them in the stunned wake of his declaration. Evelyn rose and watched him gather his men and exit through the gaping wound that had once been the door. He shouted orders and two men in blue positioned themselves at the base of the porch.

General Patterson addressed his men, though his eyes rested on Evelyn. “Be sure to escort Miss Mapleton at any time she needs to leave home. We wouldn’t want harm to come to anyone.”

His meaning clutched her stomach like iron bands. She would not be arrested, but neither would she be free.

She stood on the porch and watched him leave. Then, accepting defeat, she turned back into the house.

It would seem she’d just become a prisoner.