Chapter 18

GABE CUT A SIDEWAYS GLANCE AT CASSIE, hunkered down in her uniform, her face partially shadowed by the brim of her kepi.

The farther into the woods the mare took them, the more tightly wound she seemed. She’d pulled out her battered Bible, reading it quietly for the first part of the trip, but as the wide road was swallowed by trees, their limbs reaching up like clawing fingers, she’d shoved the Bible into her haversack. Her eyes darted warily back and forth across the narrowing trail. When he’d attempted to swing right onto a thinly marked road, she grabbed his hands, forcing him to halt the droopy mare.

“Not this way.” Her complexion was pale.

“Why?”

Licking her stiff lips, she whispered, “This road cuts through the woods and leads to my parents’ farm.”

“All right. I’ll go straight. Is the trail wide enough to manage the wagon?”

“Yes. I’ll tell you where to go.”

They meandered for at least an hour, dodging hanging limbs, sharp turns, and bone-rattling bumps from naked rocks jutting out of the dirt, but he didn’t mind. The thick, loamy scent of wet earth rose up around them, cloaking him in a serenity he had rarely experienced. The metallic cold couldn’t dampen the beauty of the surrounding forest, the last crimson and orange leaves drifting from the trees like fluttering paper. He wanted to stop and capture the landscape on wet plate, but seeing how rigid Cassie had become on the bobbing bench, he held his tongue. There would be time later.

“I envy you.”

She turned to face him, her eyes questioning. “Why?”

He gestured to the scene before him with his free hand. “Growing up with all of this. It’s breathtaking.”

She glanced around them, trying to see the land as he saw it. Her lips curved. “It is beautiful. Why do you suppose we don’t appreciate the beauty around us when we have it?”

“I suppose that means you rarely saw it as beautiful.”

Shrugging, she wrapped her arms around her middle. “I’ve always thought this land lovely, but shadows have a way of snuffing out beauty.”

Unable to stop himself, Gabe reached across the seat and squeezed her cold fingers with his own. She inhaled sharply but didn’t break away. After a long moment, she even relaxed, keeping her hand tucked in his. Something unfurled in his chest.

They rounded a stand of maples and she freed her hand, sitting taller in her seat before stopping him with a hand on his arm. “We’re here.”

He pulled the horse to a stop and took in the sight. Towering trees gave way to a small clearing that boasted a weathered log cabin. The porch held a low roof and a solitary rocking chair. The steps sagged. A stone chimney crept up one side, and the scraggly remnants of a garden could be seen behind the house. To the right was a small barn that looked ready to topple over, yet he knew it was inhabited from the low moo of a cow inside. He squinted, able to make out a smaller building tucked behind the cabin. A storage shed perhaps. The scent of woodsmoke hung in the cold air.

It was a simple home, but the way Cassie’s face lit up, a person might think it was inhabited by Abe Lincoln himself.

Her breath rapid, she whispered, “Tie the nag to this tree for a minute. We can get her unhitched and settled in the barn in a bit.”

Before she could jump from the wagon, he gripped her elbow, making sure to keep his voice low. “What if your grandmother has visitors?”

“I’m in uniform, remember? And I don’t see any other wagons. She’s likely alone.”

He nodded and longed to squeeze her hand again as a flicker of trepidation skittered across her delicate features.

They walked side by side across the yard. The ground was spongy, evidence of a recent rain. The porch groaned beneath his weight as they approached the front door. With her eyes fixed ahead, Cassie wiped her hands down her trousers, inhaled a deep breath, and knocked. Silence. No footfalls. She grasped the handle and pushed the door open.

They stepped inside and he blinked, trying to adjust his eyes to the darkness. Most of the windows had been shuttered, but one glass window let in soothing, pale light. A hissing fire popped in the stone fireplace. A small woman with a head full of gray curls dozed in a rocker next to the fireplace, her lap covered with a rag quilt.

Cassie said nothing, but the trembling of her chin spoke volumes. She knelt down in front of the aged lady and placed a gentle hand on her covered knee. “Granny? Granny, it’s me.”

The old woman stirred and shifted, blinking slowly. Her gaze suddenly sharpened as she realized two strangers were in her home. “What are you—?” She trembled. “How did—?”

Cassie pulled the kepi from her head, and Gabe watched as silky strands of mahogany slipped down to her shoulders. Cupping the woman’s cheek, she leaned in and forced her grandmother to look her in the eyes. “It’s me, Granny. It’s Cassie.”

Recognition dawned just before the old woman’s face crumpled. She choked on a sob and wrapped Cassie in a white-knuckled hug. “Oh, my child! My beautiful Cassie! I was so afraid . . .”

Gabe watched in wonder as the sharpshooter of the Second Michigan Infantry, the courageous hero of war, laid her head on her grandmother’s shoulder and wept.

She was home.

With a smile she couldn’t stifle, Cassie carried the steaming bowl of creamed potatoes and platter of fried chicken to the table, adding more to the small feast she and Granny had prepared.

Chicken, potatoes, thick squares of corn bread with sweet, creamy butter, fried apples, and tea . . . all of them luxuries.

Gabe inhaled with appreciation. “A sight better than hardtack, beans, and coffee, I’d say.”

Cassie grabbed three cups from the shelf as he rose to assist Granny into her kitchen chair.

Granny smiled at him and pinched his cheek. “Can’t say I mind a looker helping me to my chair for a change.”

“Granny!” Despite her embarrassment, she couldn’t repress the giggle that burst forth at the woman’s forward behavior. She’d never seen her so smitten with a man before.

Gabe winked, easily guiding her so she could settle into her seat with grace. “It’s my pleasure when the company is so lovely.”

Pink tinged Granny’s cheeks. Cassie shook her head and eased into her own chair. Granny Ardie. Blushing. Playing the coquette. And Gabe certainly didn’t seem to mind the adoration.

Granny extended her blue-veined hands, indicating she expected each of them to grasp on. “Shall we say grace?”

She slipped her hand into her grandmother’s but could not squelch the odd flip in her stomach when Gabe’s warm fingers wrapped around her own. Her hand suddenly seemed strangely small.

Closing her eyes, she bowed her head as Granny’s gravelly voice lifted a soft, sweet petition.

“I thank thee, dear Lord, for this food, the abundance of provision, and especially for—” her voice caught before she cleared her throat—“bringing my precious Cassie back home, even if only for a short time. And I thank thee for her handsome friend gracing this humble table. May we always be thankful to thee. Amen.”

Cassie added her own amen that blended with Gabe’s as Granny released her. Gabe, however, hung on for a moment or two longer than necessary. Warmth crept up her neck.

She had just dipped her spoon into the potatoes when she felt Granny’s gaze on her. She looked up and drank in the utter love and wonder in her pale eyes.

“I can’t believe you’re here. How I’ve missed you. And a Union soldier? I—” Emotion overcame her, cutting off the soft words.

Cassie took her knobby hands and squeezed. “Not exactly what you pictured in my future, eh?”

She shook her graying head and patted Cassie’s hand before taking up her tine. “Not in the slightest. Though I worry for your safety, it’s a sight better than Erastus Leeds, is it not?”

Cassie chuckled and speared a chunk of fried chicken, popping it in her mouth with a sigh of pleasure. Delectable.

“Who is Erastus Leeds?” Gabe was studying her in confusion.

“The man Father was insistent I marry.” She turned to Granny. “Did he marry another? Please say it’s so.”

“No, child. He’s still alone on his farm. Well, nearly.” Granny suddenly clamped her mouth shut, her wise eyes flickering with something tumultuous.

“What is it?”

Brow furrowed, she shook her head. “It’s not for me to say.”

Cassie pushed her plate back and fixed Granny with a look she prayed would make her cave. “You’ve already aroused my suspicion. What do you mean he is ‘nearly’ alone?”

Granny took a deep breath.

“Constance Slattery visits him at least twice a week and always stays through the night.”

Heat crept up Cassie’s neck at the indelicate topic. She couldn’t repress the sarcasm from slipping through. “I take it he’s not missing me overly much, then.”

Granny sent her a reproving look. “We ought not take pleasure in his vice.”

“Sounds like you’re well rid of the man.”

Gabe’s soft observation caused her to glance over. His eyes were alight with a fierceness she had rarely witnessed in his jovial countenance.

“Indeed.” She poked at the fried apples and finally braved the question that she’d dreaded. “Was Father upset?”

“Upset is an understatement. He bellowed and stomped about like a penned bull for three weeks. I’ve never heard such yelling and cursing in all my days.”

Cassie cringed, her stomach in knots. Dropping her fork to her plate with a clatter, she sat back in her chair and toyed with the napkin on her lap. “Does he suspect where I went?”

“Not a clue. After he and Erastus came to blows over your absence—” Granny’s lips twisted in amusement—“he lit out to find you and drag you back home. He was gone a week but eventually gave up. Your sisters thought you had a beau and ran off to elope.”

“Sisters?” Gabe shot her a smile. “I’d forgotten you mentioned having sisters. How many?”

Granny answered. “Four.” She gazed for a long moment at Cassie. “One of them pops in to check on me each week. Imagine them catching you here. And dressed as a Union soldier.” The lines deepened around her eyes. “Are you planning to wear your uniform the entire time?”

Cassie sighed and worried the edge of her fraying blue cuff between her fingers. “I was hoping to be rid of this while we were here. It’s filthy and needs a good scrubbing.” She managed to stem the tears pricking her eyes. “And for a week, I’d like to be Cassie Kendrick . . . not Thomas Turner.”

Granny reached over and cupped her cheek. “Of course, love. You can bathe and wear one of your old dresses you kept here for overnight visits. We’ll wash this dandy uniform tomorrow and put it out of sight for a week.”

“What if one of my sisters calls?”

Granny cackled. “Then I suppose you and Gabe will have to hide in the cellar.”

Gabe put down his cup and winked in a manner that caused Cassie’s toes to curl in her tattered boots. “And if we see her sisters or Mr. Kendrick, we’ve already concocted a plan.” He swung his gaze to Cassie, his expression communicating more than the words he uttered. Or was it only Cassie’s imagination? “If her father appears, I will claim the role of new husband to your granddaughter.”

Granny giggled like a little girl and resumed eating. “I doubt you’ll have to worry about John stopping in anytime soon. He hasn’t come since—” All at once, Granny paled and grew silent.

Dread pooled in Cassie’s middle. “Since what?”

Granny dropped her fork and wove her fingers together, her face drawn. “Not since your mother passed away.”

Something cold and dark squeezed around Cassie’s heart. She couldn’t breathe. “How?” Had she done this to her? Had the shock of her departure sparked a fire of problems that consumed her poor, weary mother? Or perhaps Father, in his rage—

“She died of pneumonia, child.” Granny wiped away a stray tear. “It happened suddenly. There wasn’t anything you could have done.”

Her throat burned. She stood on shaking legs and mumbled an apology. “Pardon me for a moment.”

Tears blurred her vision as she fled, bursting through the back door and into the bleak cold of night.