The air in the hospital—formally a home—crawled with tension, fear, and mistrust. Well, at least it did for Evelyn. Did any of them know what she’d done? Had a weapon she’d stolen from one of these men led to him ending up here?

Evelyn watched as the stout young soldier who had carried Alice the three miles back from Lewinsville knelt over a fallen compatriot. Was this ward any different from the one in Front Royal? Nurses darted about, removing blue jackets and bathing dirt from open cuts, and Evelyn put her fingers to her temples, sank to the floor next to Alice, and grasped Alice’s limp hand.

Was it that easy? Shed the color of their coat and they were the same underneath? It couldn’t be. These men were devilish fiends. Then why did they look more like tired, bedraggled, men who suffered injuries the same as the boys in gray?

Their moans mingled with ones that came from somewhere deep in her soul. Watching the man who had carried Alice lower his head in prayer over his injured friend broke something within her. Had she been wrong? Had she heaped the sins of one man upon all who wore the same color as he? And had Ida been right, as well? Were men from both sides capable of the atrocities Daddy had only attributed to the Yanks?

Here sat not marauders as she’d believed, nor evil men as Alice and Daddy had labeled them. They were as much husbands, sons, sweethearts, and friends as the Southern boys. Did the women who sent these loved ones to battle weep any less than Aunt Mary? Suffer any less? She squeezed Alice’s hand tighter.

She’d convinced herself they were evil and deserving of the sins she’d committed, making excuses and finding an easy target for the anger churning in her heart. Had her theft helped mothers lose sons and wives become widows?

The doctor walked among them, giving them encouragement as he saw to their mental as well as physical wellbeing. A contradiction. A Yank with a heart. Something Daddy said didn’t exist.

But he was wrong. Memories of the lighthearted private who had stood watch over her in Martinsburg drifted to mind. The young man had not been evil. He’d treated her with respect and dignity despite the fact they clearly stood for opposing sides.

Had she merely found an outlet for anger she could not direct elsewhere, and so she’d made devils out of men? Evelyn clutched the fabric at her neck, tears burning their way across the back of her throat and finding release through stinging eyes. Stealing to make her father proud and pouring hatred on strangers would not ease the true ache of her heart.

The truth, cold and bitter as unnecessary death, surfaced from the depths where she’d long buried it. Daddy had abandoned her under the guise of safety and education. Aunt Mary had never been the mother-figure Evelyn had desperately longed for, and Isabella had always looked down on her.

Her deeply buried anger had bubbled and festered. She’d first found her courage in order to defend against sinful deeds, but then that courage had somehow deteriorated into something much less gallant. Under the guise of courage, she’d baited her cousin, defied her aunt, and hated people she didn’t even know. She’d taken all that was discontent within her and found something to heap it upon.

If she was honest with herself, the Yanks were just easier to hate than those she loved. They were easier to blame for her problems than blame herself.

She gazed at Alice, tears blurring her vision and distorting her friend’s face. Was she herself naught but a selfish termagant bent on having what she wanted at the expense of others?

She released Alice’s hand and drew her knees to her chest.

Try as she might, she could not keep the wracking sobs from overtaking her. She pulled her legs in closer, wishing nothing more than to be as small as possible. To disappear unnoticed.

A warm hand enveloped her arm. “Miss?”

Evelyn shook her head, pressing her eyes into her knees until it hurt, trying to stop the torrent that sprang free.

“Miss?” The doctor’s voice, smooth as a river stone, breached her defenses and offered comfort. “Your friend’s not dead. She merely needs rest. I’m confident she’ll wake in time.”

She lifted her head. The doctor stared at her, concern in his eyes. Would this handsome Yank be compassionate if he knew she’d stolen from Federal soldiers? Shot one?

His hand squeezed her shoulder, and an irrational thought surged through her. He didn’t know her. Not a single thing. She could be anything in this moment.

“I…” She swallowed hard, trying to regain a pinch of composure. “Forgive me. I am…undone.”

Compassion warmed his eyes, which held traces of green mingled with brown as soft as a fawn. “Perfectly understandable. You’ve been through an ordeal. I daresay any lady would be undone by such things.”

Even though she’d said the same thing herself, his words chafed. Evelyn pulled away from him and swiped the moisture from her face. Naturally, he thought a woman could not handle the same circumstances as a man. Not without turning into a sodden heap of uselessness. She lifted her hand so that he might assist her to her feet, glad that she’d dropped the hoops, which were still laden with supplies, at the outskirts of the Confederate camp.

As soon as she stood properly upright, she extracted her hand from his and tried to ignore the sensation his touch sent scurrying up her arm. She squared her shoulders. “No, it’s not acceptable, lady or otherwise. These are times in which a person must set aside personal emotions and do one’s duty.”

He lifted his eyebrows.

“Again, I must apologize.” She glanced around the ward and then back down at Alice. “I’ll stay near until she awakens.” He opened his mouth to respond, but she continued without giving him the option. “But until then, I shall make myself of use. I have experience tending wounded.”

He regarded her with open curiosity, seeming unconcerned with hiding his thoughts as they played across his face.

“I would like to offer my services, if you have need of them.”

The doctor rocked back on his heels, his eyes narrowing. She kept his gaze, hoping he wouldn’t see her own uncertainty clawing to break free.

“I appreciate the offer. However—”

“But—”

He held up his hand. “Please, miss, if you don’t mind, I’d like to know a little about you before sending you to work among the men. Especially after the day you’ve had.”

Evelyn swallowed her words. His reasoning was sound.

“Now, Lady Wil—” He clamped his mouth shut and then quickly spoke again, as though he thought hurrying his words would erase what he’d almost said. His gaze sharpened. “What’s your name?”

What had he been about to call her? Did she remind him of another? “My name is Evelyn Mapleton.” She kept her hand at her side.

He dipped in a small bow. “Samuel Flynn.”

A strong name befitting the man who bore it. She turned her gaze away from him, afraid to look too long upon the fine contours of his features.

“May I ask where you’ve served as a nurse?”

Evelyn glanced at the slow, shallow rise of Alice’s chest, so faint she could barely see it move. “I’m not a nurse. I washed, cleaned, fed, and helped change bed sheets. I didn’t tend wounds, replace bandages, or assist in operations.”

He nodded along, seeming to listen and consider her words. “And where did you perform these duties?”

She withheld a sigh that wanted to escape her lips. “Front Royal.”

“I see.” The lack of malice in his voice caused her gaze to dart to his. The utter lack of condemnation in his eyes held her there. “I will be glad to have a lady who understands the needs and is capable of handling them. I’ll send Nurse Fanning to you momentarily.”

Evelyn watched him leave, too stunned to say anything. Here he’d had another opportunity to cause her undoing, but had simply walked away.

The room, large as it was, seemed smaller for the presence of a man like that. How could one such as he be in favor of government control and suppressed freedoms? She shoved the thought aside. He’d not had her hauled off, though surely knowing she’d tended men at Front Royal had given her loyalties away. Because of that, she would do her best in tending his patients.

Yanks or not.

“Miss Mapleton, I presume?” A woman, plain of features and of average height, addressed Evelyn with an impatient wave of her hand.

“Yes?”

“I’m told you wish to help?”

“I do.”

“Good. Please come with me.” She turned, the click of her sensible shoes as stiff as her spine.

Casting one more glance at Alice, Evelyn followed the nurse through the ward, out a rear door, and into an adjacent stone building. The nurse opened the door to the structure, and a wave of heat rolled out.

“The men will need to be served their meal soon,” the nurse said, gesturing that Evelyn should enter the kitchen. Then she hurried away without waiting for a response.

Inside, a skinny woman covered in flour puttered around the stove. Better to serve meals than to have to wash grime from partially clothed soldiers.

The scrawny woman ushered her through the door. “Come, come, love. We’ve much work to be about.” She pointed to an apron hanging from a peg inside the door near a barrel of potatoes.

Evelyn tied the strings around her middle and waited for further instruction, assessing her surroundings. The small kitchen teemed with crates of root vegetables and onions. Sacks of flour and cornmeal had been shoved against the walls, and corn husks littered the floor. Despite the disarray, trays of golden loaves and sweet-smelling confections covered nearly every work surface. The cook may not be an organized woman, but she seemed talented.

With a cheerful attitude misaligned with the chaos of a cluttered kitchen, the cook sang softly to herself as she pulled a tray of small muffins from the oven. The scent made Evelyn’s stomach rumble, reminding her she’d not had a mid-day meal.

The cook laughed. “Oh, you poor dear. You nurses get busy with your treatments and forget your own body needs tending as well.” She nodded to a basket filled with corn muffins as she set more on a wide plank table, filling the only open space. “Go ahead and grab you one, and then you can help me assemble the trays.”

Evelyn plucked one of the fluffy yellow muffins from the stack and took a bite of the sweetness.

The cook watched her with a crooked grin that made her angular face undeniably friendly. “Good, ya?”

Evelyn smiled and swallowed. “Very much. Thank you.”

“Sure, sure, love.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “Get you another if you want. Won’t do a lick of good for you to go fainting for lack of nourishment.”

Without a single care about Aunt Mary’s admonitions on a lady’s appetite, Evelyn snagged another and popped the entire thing into her mouth.

Taking a survey. Looking for an occupation site. Blasted Rebels fired on us from hiding. Fragments of information about the skirmish dappled the ward and clung to any ear willing to hear. The Rebs are cowards. They didn’t announce themselves prior to attacking with a blood-curdling yell.

Samuel listened to it all, processing each thing as well as a man who had never seen a battle could. It seemed that one of their survey crews had gone into Lewinsville, which was in enemy territory, to scout the location. At some point, General J.E.B Stuart and the First Virginia Cavalry learned of this excursion. The Rebels crept through the woods, coming not a hundred yards from the men left standing on the road while the officers preformed reconnaissance.

Then the Rebels attacked, and the Federals were forced to retreat, until their heavy artillery could cover them.

All the information that the men spouted Samuel took with nods and simple words of encouragement until his hospital filled with frustrated sick and gallantly wounded settled in for the evening. They had been washed, stitched, and wrapped, and only the one man had required surgery. His duty to the army complete for the moment, Samuel turned his attention to the one patient who didn’t belong.

A slight girl with hair as wild as a treed bobcat slept peacefully in a cot as far away from the men as he could get her without losing sight of her. Her companion was nowhere to be seen.

Miss Evelyn Mapleton.

The name lacked the absurd fancifulness of the Wildwood Queen, but sounded both resolute and feminine. Not unlike the lady herself. A mystery, indeed.

He rolled the name around in his mind as he checked Alice’s pulse. The girl’s eyelids fluttered, and her lips moved. Samuel leaned in closer to catch whatever request she might have.

“Watch. They’ll be coming.”

What? He leaned back to look at her face, but her eyes remained closed. She must be mumbling words within her dreams. Despite the oddity of such a statement, it nevertheless infused Samuel with hope. If she could dream and speak, then surely she would soon wake.

Leaving her to slumber, he stepped away. Between the customary scents that engulfed the hospital, the gentle hint of honeysuckle carried with it the hearty aroma of bread and meat. By the time Evelyn arrived with the serving tray, he stood by the door to receive her.

“Good evening, Miss Mapleton.”

She balanced the tray with the ease of one who’d been trained in the art of graceful movements. Her posture perfect, she gifted him with only the slightest upturn of rosy lips before passing him by. Too intrigued to look away, he watched as she dispersed bowls of soup and corn muffins. Her gaze never turned to him but darted to Alice a dozen times before her tray emptied.

He stood in the doorway as she made to leave. Brown eyes lingered on him in question, but her lips did not part. After what seemed a rather long stalemate, he stepped to the side and extended his arm.

She passed him without word or expression. He found himself watching her once more, and yet again had to remind himself to refocus his thoughts.

What in creation had gotten into him?