FIVE
Henry had never encountered a woman quite like Maggie. It had been a few days since they had redressed the wound. He’d left her alone as much as possible, sensing that her pride needed to heal, as well as her body.
That was one reason he found himself checking traps for the second time today.
Barely two weeks ago, he didn’t know she existed. And now… He wasn’t entirely sure what he was feeling. When he first saw her in the woods, he hadn’t thought twice of helping her. In the days that followed, he’d nursed her, as best he could, not knowing what to fully expect when she awakened.
The hostility wasn’t surprising. It didn’t even offend him. It was clear that her only goal was to survive. Nothing went beyond that. There wasn’t space in her mind, past the mental and physical pain she’d endured.
She’d been fierce and brave throughout the ordeal. But there were a few moments when she let the veil slip. Then, he caught a glimpse of the woman who had been hidden beneath the shadow of trauma.
Those milliseconds were enough for him to find her extraordinary.
An unexplainable force pulled him towards her. It went beyond the call of duty as a gentleman, if he would admit it to himself. Now he couldn’t imagine simply leaving, to never know what had happened to her.
Not that she felt the same.
It was no secret his presence annoyed her. Or so he thought. When he’d announced to her that he was going to take Samson out this time to check the traps, he saw her eyes briefly widen in panic before she controlled herself.
She’s uttered a “Hmph,” in his direction and turned away, but her body language said she was anxious.
He’d been pondering her reaction when a light reflected towards him. Like the sun hitting metal in the distance.
Using the binoculars he’d brought along, he squinted against the brightness.
Scouts.
Without a moment of hesitation, he turned Samson back in the direction of the cabin, spurring him on as fast as he could run.
His panic didn’t slow until he burst inside and found her on the cot. His sudden reappearance startled Maggie and she dropped the hairbrush she’d been holding.
“Hurry, we have to leave. Grab your things and let’s go,” he said, throwing the blanket aside so she could stand.
“What? What are you talking about?”
He ignored her question. Rushing around the room, he grabbed their things, throwing them into his bag.
“Henry. What is happening?”
It was the first time he had heard her say his name. He pushed aside the feeling of liking it. “The army is coming. I saw the scouts while I was out. They’ll be here before nightfall.”
“But surely if the army is near, then you must leave. They will have no quarrel with me. I understand that you, on the other hand, would be in danger.”
She didn’t understand. He moved to step toward her but stopped himself.
“Not the Confederate army, Margaret. The Union army. General Sherman has given orders to take anything they can and to burn the rest. They’re going to destroy everything in their path from Savannah to Charleston…
The tables are turned the other way around. ”
He watched as his explanation sank in. The color ebbed from her face, and he worried he would have to catch her. But she grabbed onto a chair, steadying herself. There was no time to comfort her. No longer worried that she would faint, he resumed packing.
“But I can’t leave. This is my home. Mama…” He froze at her tiny, childlike voice. Her gaze was focused on the window toward her mother’s grave.
“Margaret. Maggie,” He took a deep breath when she flinched at her name.
“You have no choice. We’ve got to get you out of here.
Those men you already encountered… There could be more like them.
And once I’m seen, I’ll have to report for duty.
I won’t be able to stay by your side and protect you.
They won't understand our… acquaintance. As it is, I’m precariously close to being court-martialed for disappearing for two weeks. ”
He saw his words had the intended effect. Her eyes were wet with unshed tears while the wheels turned in them.
“But my stitches. How can I run?”
This was the part he hated most for her. “We need to take them out here. And quickly. I don’t know what conditions will be like on the road. I had hoped to give it a few more days to heal, but there’s no time.”
Maggie pushed back the hair from her damp face, her hand shaky. But within the next breath, she appeared to shove her fear away. She pulled the chair out from the table, sat roughly down, and gripped the sides. Meeting his eye, she said, “Okay.”
Henry shot over to his saddle bag and hurriedly grabbed the corked bottle and a small pair of scissors. “I know you had planned—wanted—to do this yourself, but time is of the essence. I don’t think we can wait for you to do this. Maggie, do you trust me? I will be as gentle as I can.”
She untied her bodice. “Do it,” she whispered.
Fighting the instinct to politely avert his eyes, Henry cut through the bandages and threw them onto the floor.
With his teeth, he uncorked the bottle and poured the alcohol over the scissors and his hands, onto the floor.
There was no time to grab a bowl. “The wound runs long… I’m sorry, but you’ll have to untie the top of your shift too. ”
Her lips pressed firmly together, but she did as he asked and opened it an inch to expose the stitched slash.
He kept his eyes on the task at hand and only glanced up once to see that Maggie had tightly shut her eyes again after he cut the first stitch. He gently pulled the thread away with his fingers. “Keep breathing, Maggie. You’re doing just fine.”
Finally, it was over. “Done. It will still be very tender, but doesn’t need to be dressed. Do you have a clean handkerchief somewhere that we can put over it? If your clothes rub against it, the skin may become irritated.”
“In the chest,” she muttered through clenched teeth. Her eyes remained shut.
He pressed the cloth delicately on her chest, but removed his hands when Maggie pulled her shift closed and tied it tightly. Before she had finished, he’d already repacked the bottle and scissors. “We need to go. Is there one last thing you need?”
It surprised him when she walked over to the box she’d overturned the other night and dumped it onto the table.
She pulled her mother’s necklace from the jumble and fastened it around her neck.
As almost an afterthought, she grabbed the family bible that lay in the mess and threw it into his waterproof leather knapsack.
Snatching a bonnet from the hook beside the door, he handed it to her. The blazing sun would show no mercy.
“Let’s go.” Maggie stepped out of the door first, bearing a look of determination, and did not glance back.
Samson was still saddled in the yard. Henry quickly fastened the saddle bag.
“We need to put a wide berth between us and the army. It’s too risky to walk. The quickest way is if we ride.” He held out his hand. “You trusted me once today. Will you trust me again?”
Maggie stared at his hand outstretched and then into his eyes. He didn’t know what she was looking for, but she found whatever it was. She grasped his hand and hoisted herself up on the saddle.
He put the straps from the canvas bag on his shoulders and swung up behind her. Reaching around Maggie, he took hold of the reins and, with a kick of his heels, Samson broke into a gallop.
They rode out of the yard, passing the family cemetery.
He felt her body tense as her head turned toward it. She didn’t look away until it was out of view.
“Thank you.”
The voice was so small and tight, he barely heard it.
He knew what she meant and what she saw.
He hadn’t done it for praise. The wood had been easy enough to find in the barn, and he’d needed something to do outside to give her space.
It had barely taken a day to carve and sand the wood smooth.
Even less time to firmly plant it in the ground, deep enough that no wind would blow it over.
He’d never meet the woman resting below it, but it was the least he could do.
“I would’ve wanted someone to do the same for my mother. ”
They rode until Samson grew tired and began to slow.
Stopping under the shade of a cluster of trees near the riverbank, Henry dismounted and offered her a hand to help her down.
But she ignored him and stubbornly leapt down.
The impact shot to her knees and she winced—she hadn’t considered how weak she’d be after riding for so long.
Her thighs burned and her hands chaffed from how tightly she’d held on.
She limped over to a tree and sat down, putting distance between them.
She might have been able to tolerate close proximity to him when dealing with her wound, but nothing could have prepared her for that intimate ride.
When his arms came around her for the reins, instantly she’d felt trapped and struggled not to panic. The feeling intensified with every movement as his thighs rubbed against her and his chest brushed against her back.
Only the thought of the Union army’s imminent war path kept her from jumping off the horse. She couldn’t bear the thought of repeating that experience.
Her body and mind ached. She wished she were alone so she could take off some of her layers and wade in the cool river. Or better yet, submerge down and take a bath. The ride had been unbearably hot and dusty. Every inch of her felt gritty. Even her tongue felt like sandpaper.
Her companions appeared to feel similarly. Samson gulped from the river without pausing. Henry squat above stream to fill his canteen. His shirt was nearly transparent, it was so saturated with sweat.
Before Maggie could force herself up to join them, Henry walked over to where she sat and offered the canteen to her.
“Here, drink some. I’m going to go see if I can find anything for us to eat. I’ll be back before sunset.”
She quenched her thirst and then splashed the rest over her face and neck. It felt wonderful.