Chapter 16

NOVEMBER 14, 1861

ALEXANDRIA, VIRGINIA

Among the fading reds, oranges, and golds of autumn’s trees, Cassie knelt and scraped her fingers against the forest floor, snagging a thick stick and dropping it into the heap of kindling in the middle of the litter. She straightened her aching back.

Her load was only half-full and she was in no hurry to return to camp. The anticipation that permeated long weeks of waiting outside Washington for General McClellan to give marching orders had melted into disappointed apathy. Why didn’t they move? The passing days were growing into a blur.

At least the nip in the November air was invigorating, as was the earthy scent of loam and cedar. In this stretch of woods, she was finally alone. Blissfully alone with no prying eyes watching to see if she was something other than Thomas Turner, man of war.

The deception was wearing thin. Not that she wasn’t good at it. On the contrary, she spoke like a man, could walk like a man, and could easily keep up with the tasks assigned to the soldiers . . . something she accredited to God’s grace and being raised on a farm. Everything on the outside declared her to be solidly male.

But she was a woman. A woman exceedingly weary of pretending to be something she wasn’t. A girl desperate for an embrace from her grandmother. A girl who longed to don her simple homespun dress and wander through the woods barefoot. She was tired of lying, of the perpetual strain, of the crude crush of men always around her.

When Captain Johnston had pulled her aside three days ago, informing her she had been granted a fortnight of respite before winter set in, Cassie had stumbled and stuttered her way through the conversation.

“Private Turner, you should take your fortnight of leave. I have no idea when I can grant you permission to visit your family in the future. War is uncertain.”

Take her leave? And go . . . where?

There was only one place she wanted to go and one person she wanted to see. Both were forbidden to her if she wanted to avoid her father.

“But I have no family, sir.”

Captain Johnston had frowned. “You don’t have to retain family to take a furlough, you know. And there are at least a dozen others I’m sending away to gain rest. I insist you take advantage of this opportunity. You’re a valuable asset to the Union, and we need you ready for whatever comes in the spring.”

She picked up the ends of the litter and dragged it behind her across the forest floor, relishing its soft hiss as it slid over fallen leaves and cushioned beds of moss. She didn’t want to dwell on anything other than the snatched moments of solitude when she could be Cassie Kendrick.

With a smile, she unslung the rifle from her shoulder and set it on the ground, then tugged off her kepi and tossed it on the litter, running her fingers through her silky hair. She really should cut it again, but something held her back. The other soldiers’ hair looked like hers, longer than normal, and no one thought them feminine. Still, she should not take the risk. As soon as she found blade or razor sharp enough, the thick tendrils would be shorn again.

She sighed in contentment as she massaged her scalp, allowing the cool air to settle into the silky threads. She should enjoy it while it was still somewhat clean. The last time she’d attempted to bathe was three days ago and the water had been bitterly cold. Her teeth had chattered for an hour afterward. The chance of bathing again was remote until after winter’s thaw.

Crunch, crunch . . .

She froze. Footfalls through the woods. She was not alone.

Heart hammering against her ribs, she lowered herself to the ground and reached for her gun. Her fingertips scraped the cold metal of her rifle. She rose slowly, gripping the weapon, and listened.

Crunch, step, crunch, step . . .

The gait was uneven. Breath thinning, she’d raised the rifle when a person appeared from behind a stand of pines.

Sandy-blond hair, strong build, piercing green eyes . . .

Her heart thudded to a stop as she set aside the rifle with limp hands. He stopped and stared at her with a small smile.

Gabe.

Her breathing felt sharp and much too rapid. He walked steadily toward her, a hitch evident in his stride. It had been weeks since Ball’s Bluff and she’d seen no sign of him since. Jonah assured her he’d delivered the camera, but all other traces of Gabe’s existence had been wiped from the camp, save for the Whatsit that sat lonely and unused on the outskirts of the cabins under construction.

“Hi, Thomas.”

She startled and then looked down as heat crept up her neck and into her cheeks. The kindness in his voice did little to settle her turbulent emotions.

“I—I thought you’d left,” she stammered.

He said nothing. Only studied her with an odd expression. Partly amused and partly . . . she didn’t know what.

“I mean, your traveling darkroom is still at camp, but I figured Brady hadn’t had time to send someone for it, and—”

Gabe interrupted with a chuckle. “I’ve never heard you speak so quickly, Thomas Turner.”

A soft giggle escaped. “Your jabbering must have rubbed off on me somehow.”

He laughed, and something deep inside her, something she feared was dead and locked away, began to open and warm.

His eyes darkened as he stepped closer, a shadow flickering across his face. “I haven’t left. I’m here, and it’s because of you.”

He knew? Her chest tightened and she looked away. “Who told you?”

“Jonah.”

She frowned. “I didn’t want you to know.”

He released a huff, rife with exasperation. “Why not?”

She snapped back to meet his gaze, tasting the fear on her tongue. “Because I didn’t want you to think I did it as some sort of pitiful plea to change your mind about me. To make you feel guilty or some other attempt to manipulate.”

He stepped closer and the air between them grew charged. “Why did you save me, then?”

She looked into the sculpted planes of his face, into his intense eyes with their faint lines at the corners. Her tongue refused to work. She couldn’t say what suddenly struck her with astounding force, like a hammer against an anvil.

She loved him.

How could she have been so foolish? So undisciplined? She hadn’t wanted to, yet her heart had crumbled like ash just the same.

Fisting her hands, she expelled a tight, shaking breath and looked away. “I couldn’t leave you there to suffer. You needed help.”

He said nothing, only watched her. The silence between them grew uncomfortable.

Clearing her throat, she nodded toward his injured leg. “How are you feeling?”

He smiled gently. “I’m not dead, thanks to you.”

Heat warmed her insides and tinged her skin.

“I’m still a little sore but well otherwise.” His eyes crinkled. “Thankfully it doesn’t take strength like Briggs’s to capture images on glass.”

Glimmers of their past friendship resurfaced. It might not be as it was before, but anything was better than the agonizing past few months of thick silence covering loud anger.

“Jonah told me he returned your camera. I’m just sorry the soldier who retrieved it couldn’t salvage the rest.”

Leaning against the trunk of a pine, Gabe shrugged. “The camera and lens were the most costly. I traveled to the capital for the past several weeks and met with Brady. He said things like this were bound to happen during war. He’s pleased with my work and will replace the tripod and plate box himself.”

“I’m glad.”

Gabe looked off into the autumn woods surrounding them. “Not that it will matter overly much in the coming months. I heard General McClellan is keeping the men here for winter. Not much to capture when it’s so quiet.”

“That’s true.” She bent and retrieved another thick branch and added it to the litter of kindling. “Captain Johnston is insisting I take furlough while we’re hunkered down.”

His green eyes sharpened. “Where will you go?”

Scooping up her discarded kepi, she jammed it back on her head. “Don’t know. The only person I want to see is my grandmother, but it’s too dangerous. If Father discovers I’m there . . .”

Gabe frowned. “Surely he wouldn’t hold you against your will.”

“He most certainly would.”

They fell silent. A bird chirped nearby, reminding her how very alone they were in this long stretch of woods. With a sigh, she knelt and picked up the ends of the litter, ready to drag it back to camp.

“Wait.” Gabe’s face was alight with something almost childlike in its mischief. “I have an idea.”

She stopped, brows furrowed.

“Let me go with you.”

“What?”

“Let me go with you. Captain Johnston said you must take a furlough. You want to see your grandmother. Where does she live again?”

“Howell, Michigan.”

“Right. I’ll go with you.”

Dropping the litter to the ground, she took a step back and licked her lips. “But how? Why?”

“It’s the perfect solution. I’m still recovering, so Brady won’t think a thing of my leave. You can travel in your uniform. After we arrive, if we do happen to run into your father—” he grinned—“I’ll tell him I’m your new husband.”

Her heart hammered in staccato beats. “Have you lost your mind?”

Chuckling, he shook his head. “Not at all. It’s the perfect solution.”

“But to lie? To deceive like that—?”

He rolled his eyes. “Would you be crossing some moral line, Thomas Turner?”

The absurdity of her protest halted her like a crashing train. At the dry look on his face, she couldn’t keep a laugh from escaping. “A valid argument. But I couldn’t ask you to make the sacrifice. You’re still healing. The journey alone would prove trying.”

He stepped closer, suddenly serious. “Please let me do this. You saved my life. I owe you an enormous debt, especially after the way I’ve treated you.” His expression shadowed like clouds drifting over a summer sky. “I’ve been thinking. Although I still don’t agree women should be mingled with men, especially in battle—” he inhaled deeply—“I was wrong to break apart our friendship the way I did.”

Cassie crossed her arms over her chest, remembering the pain of his complete rejection. “You were hurt. And I did deceive you.”

“For self-preservation.”

She looked away, trying to avoid his probing gaze. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to . . . Cassie.”

Something about the way he said her name sent shivers of awareness skittering down her spine. She shook the thought away. Don’t think. Don’t feel.

“Besides, I’ve always wanted to see Michigan.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and winked. “What better way to try out my new equipment than with a fresh canvas and a good friend?”

A good friend. Though she feared the trip would prove a mistake, she couldn’t resist the urge to spend time with him.

She slowly nodded, unable to squelch the sassy remark spilling from her lips. “All right. You can come, Avery. Just promise you won’t jabber the whole time.”

Laughing, Gabe picked up the other end of the litter, ready to help her haul it back. “I’ll try my best, Turner.”