TEN
The quiet was the first thing she noticed. There were no sounds of war cries, no banging metal, no sounds of death. Just tiny buzzing sounds, like the sound gnats’ wings make flying close to your ears.
The second thing was her head. It pounded furiously in rhythm with her heartbeat.
Proof that she was alive, at least. It wasn’t the only thing that hurt.
Without moving, she could tell there was scarcely an inch of her body that was bruised.
She didn’t need to open her eyes to know that she likely bore marks of every jab she’d encountered, as well as some new ones.
What the——
The last moments of consciousness came flooding back and her eyes shot open wide.
“Henry?”
Besides the cot she lay on, the only other item inside the tent was a basin of water, and a bucket in the corner. It filled the small space.
Where was Henry?
She tried to sit up, but a clang of iron stopped her. Looking down, she was in disbelief. Shackles bound her wrists and ankles. Still wearing her borrowed uniform, she could easily make them out. Shock, fused with a tingle of fear, ebbed from her. The last thing she remembered was the explosion.
“Henry,” she shouted, now well and truly frightened.
No one came. She decided to try to swing her legs off the bed to hop to the closed flap. In the midst of this attempt, the tent flap lifted, and a male’s head poked inside.
It wasn’t Henry.
She opened her mouth to scream, but before she could, he held up his hand. “Don’t yell. Henry sent me.”
Her unspent scream silenced into a little squeak before she closed her mouth.
“You must stay quiet. If they find me here——”
“Who are you? Where’s Henry?”
“William Johnson, a friend of Henry’s. Before I tell you where, I need you to remain calm.”
“I won’t be calm if you don’t spit it out. Tell me where he is and what’s happened,” she hissed.
He sighed and withdrew from the tent. Maggie’s mouth dropped open, unsure of what to do.
Then, William fully stepped inside and closed the flap behind him.
Gesturing for her to sit still, he crouched on the ground, eye-level with her on the cot.
Despite his assurance that he was a friend, he was a stranger to her.
Leaning away from him, she tried to get some distance between them.
It was futile as the space didn’t accommodate this. Their knees were practically touching.
“I’ll tell you everything, but you must promise me to keep quiet. It will do none of us any good if they catch me in here.” The seriousness of this was evident in his gaze.
Nervously swallowing, she nodded.
“You’ve been out for some time. What’s the last thing you remember?”
Closing her eyes, she pictured the battle.
The feeling that had melted her from her core when she’d found Henry.
Her heart threatening to run away when they had kissed.
The safety and security of his arms wrapped around her.
The strength of his body as she’d held onto him riding Samson. Then the world exploding.
“We were riding and then we fell. I tried to shield him… Is he injured?” Her voice rose with the question.
“Shhh,” he reminded her. “Henry’s okay. It was a cannon blast. Struck the ground right beside you.
You did shield him—he said when he came to, you were on top of him.
You must’ve hit your head on the ground, or on his head.
Both of you had head injuries, but only you wouldn’t wake up.
The doctors said it was likely due to shock…
” He cleared his throat. “Henry’s arm was impaled on a stick poking out of the ground.
It wasn’t—isn’t—serious,” he quickly corrected, looking at Maggie’s face.
“But he had to be stitched up by the surgeon. The medics found him. He fought against them taking you and was adamant that he would be fine without assistance. But in both of your states… in any case, it became apparent very quickly why exactly he was protesting.” William’s gaze dropped from Maggie’s, and she knew what he meant. It was because of her.
She held up her shackled wrists. “I think I can guess what happened next.”
William nodded. “Upon discovering your sex, the surgeon reported it, and it made its way up to Sheridan. You’re being held until such time as a trial can be formed as a suspected espionage agent for the Confederacy.”
Hysteria bubbled within her and she had to fight down a giggle. First, she was accused of being a Union spy by the Confederacy, and now she was accused of being a Rebel spy by the Yankees? It was sheer lunacy.
Shaking her head, more to clear away the crazy thoughts that threatened to burst than in defense, she asked, “Where’s he now?”
“He had to be held down on the surgical table while they hauled you away. Sheridan would’ve beheaded him there on the spot if he could, to keep him silent.
You could’ve boiled an egg on the top of Sheridan’s head while he screamed about “disgracing the country.” They wanted to keep the news of you quiet, so that’s why you’re hidden in here.
Guards are posted outside, but since you’ve been out of it for a few days, there are lapses in sentry…
.” At Maggie’s glare, he hurried on. “Henry was going to be arrested as well, as soon as the surgeon had patched him up. But let’s say he had a little help.
” William gave a sly grin. “A grease fire is a nasty thing to put out on a dry, windy day. While that was being dealt with, I snuck Henry back to my tent to change. He asked me to look out for you while he found the answer to your problems. Gave him my horse, and he left before they even noticed he was gone.”
Questions whirled in her mind. “Gone? Gone where? Wait, why did he need your horse?” Tears prickled her eyes. “Samson… is he—”
“Henry’s horse? No, he’s in the stable. We switched horses to avoid Henry being recognized.”
That was one small mercy at least. “But he didn’t say where he was going?”
William shook his head. “There wasn’t much time for conversation.
He lit out like the world depended upon it, though,” he looked down at her restraints.
“In a way, it does. Other things have changed while you were out… The war will be finished within a matter of days. General Grant anticipates Lee’s official surrender.
But once that is complete, I expect their attention to turn towards you.
If someone comes in to see you, say nothing.
I know you think that you’ll be defending yourself, but it could complicate things further. Bide your time.”
Not much hope then if this is the top advice given.
The reverend suddenly entered her mind. “Could you get a message to someone for me? I traveled to Five Forks with someone. Several people in fact... Reverend W.B. Adams, accompanied by Mr. and Mrs. Jones.” A twinge of guilt pained her as she thought of how she disappeared.
They must believe her to be dead after several days.
“I’ll see what I can do,” William promised.
There was a rustle outside the tent, and both froze.
William put a finger to his lips and motioned for her to stay put.
The noise finally passed by them, and they both released their breath.
“I’ve stayed far too long,” he whispered. “Remember what I said.”
Maggie dully nodded and then he slipped away from the tent.
The metal around her wrists and feet clinked noisily together as she lay back on the cot. All she could hope for was Henry’s speedy return and that Adams hadn’t given up on her yet.
It was only after his footsteps faded away that she reached up to clutch her mother’s necklace for comfort that she noticed.
It was gone.
Her mother’s treasured necklace was gone. The loss of it was like a tidal wave of grief, but there was nothing to be done. It could’ve been lost on the field or taken. Either way, she wouldn’t see it again.
Heartache, fear, and misery precluded her mind and were her company.
Other than a meal tray thrust at her, she saw no one else that first day.
The second day, the surgeon came to inspect her head wound.
Try as she might, he refused to speak to her or even look at her.
The entirety of his visit lasted less than three minutes.
Presumably, it was just to ensure she wouldn’t die before they could interrogate her.
The solitary confinement wore on her. There was no news, good or bad. She was counting the threads of the canvas when she heard someone speak to the guards outside. It wasn’t a voice she recognized. Sitting up, she swung her legs off the cot. The voices stopped, but the canvas parted.
A man stuck his head inside. Her mind whirled as she tried to place him. He was familiar, but not. She was sure she had seen him before, but it was blocked in her brain.
His eyes locked in on her restraints. “The rumors are true. I had to come and see for myself. The hellcat has finally been pinned down. Looks like Danbridge wasn’t wrong about southern women.”
He scoffed at Maggie’s confusion. “Surely you remember James, don’t you? James Danbridge? He left you quite the party favor if memory serves.” He pointed at her chest.
It came back to her with the force of a ton of bricks. He was one of the men that day at the creek. The older soldier—the one that Henry knocked unconscious.
She recoiled, fear pumping through her veins as she felt the knife slash through her skin in her memory. Pain, there was a lot of pain.