The Lady and the Officer Page 3

  Hours later, stiff and clammy, she awoke to discover that the shelling had stopped. She fumbled around for a match to light the kerosene lamp. As she struggled to ignite the wick, there was a new assault on her senses. Wood smoke. Not the sulfurous fumes from cannons but the definitive smell of burning wood. It took several moments for her eyes to adjust to the dark, and then she saw with chilling certainty smoke drifting through the floorboards of the kitchen above her head.

  Fire! Her beloved home passed down from Tobias’s parents was on fire. For several seconds she sat paralyzed until panic cut through her stupor. The cellar, her refuge during the battle, was rapidly filling with smoke.

  Stuffing her Bible into her bag, she crawled on hands and knees in the direction of the steps. Not the wooden treads leading to her kitchen but the stone steps leading up and out to the backyard. Her parched throat and seared lungs ached, but she kept her watery eyes clenched shut against the smoke. On she crawled, dragging her reticule and valise over the uneven river rocks that made up the cellar floor. Something repulsive skittered over her fingers, while sparks and embers drifted down between the cracks overhead.

  Coughing and choking with lungs desperate for air, Madeline at last bumped into the hard bottom step. She pressed her cheek against the cold stone and prayed that she wouldn’t die in such a loathsome place. With almost no strength left, she pulled herself up toward air and light and life, but before she reached the third step, she sank into black oblivion.

  TWO

  Mrs. Howard!” Once James had broken a hole through the cellar door, he spotted a limp form at the bottom of the stone steps. Despite their brief acquaintance, the sight of her lying motionless filled him with terror. He yanked what remained of the door from its hinges and sprinted down the steps. With a new escape route, smoke billowed from the subterranean hole as fresh oxygen fanned the burning floorboards above her head. Shaking her by the shoulders, James tried to rouse her to consciousness.

  “Breathe, Mrs. Howard!” He lifted her into his arms and carried her from the fiery tomb as a shower of sparks rained down from above. Several embers had already burned holes in her dress, and soot coated her face and hands. Just as they reached level ground, the kitchen floor gave way with a thunderous clatter of splitting wood and a belch of smoke. If he’d tarried another minute, she would have been buried under debris.

  James laid her in the grass at the picket fence. “Madeline,” he said next to her ear.

  Suddenly she coughed and sputtered, fighting against his restraint.

  “Rest easy. We’re far from the fire. You’re safe.” He helped her to sit up and rest against a fence post.

  A coughing fit racked her thin frame as she struggled to clear her lungs. It took her several long moments to regain her senses. “General Downing? I’m… I’m rather glad to see you,” she said hoarsely.

  “And I, you. I feared the worst when I spotted flames from the road. I prayed you’d taken my advice and sought shelter.”

  She straightened her back against the post. “I went below when the shelling began. If you hadn’t come along, that cellar would have become my grave.”

  He flinched. “I’ve witnessed death all day, Mrs. Howard. Let’s not speak of yours. God has shown mercy.”

  “Still, I’m in your debt, sir.” Rising to her knees, she attempted to stand.

  “Please rest here for a while.”

  “I cannot sit while my house burns to the ground.”

  With little choice James helped her to her feet. “Major Henry, bring Mrs. Howard some water.” His adjutant saluted but strolled off in no particular hurry. As they watched helplessly, the roof and walls collapsed, quickly turning to ash and embers.

  “My home, along with everything I own,” she said.

  “Not quite everything. One of my aides retrieved your satchel from the stairwell.” James pointed at the scorched bag.

  “Thank you for that.” Suddenly, her head snapped up. “The horses—mine and Reverend Bennett’s!” She began stumbling toward the barn until he took hold of her shoulders.

  “Your barn stands upwind of the fire. The horses will be fine where they are.” He tried to restrain her without undue familiarity.

  For a brief moment Mrs. Howard slumped against his shoulder. “I owe you my life and my beloved Bo.”

  James realized his soldiers were studying them with keen interest. “You men check on her horses. Tie them up across the street if it appears that the fire will spread.”

  After a quick salute the men left to follow his orders.

  “General Downing?” Major Henry held a dripping canteen, keeping his gaze fixed on him. “The water is fresh from the well.”

  “Thank you, Major.” James accepted the canteen without returning his salute. “Drink slowly,” he said, pressing it into Mrs. Howard’s hand.

  “I’m obliged.” She drank deeply, alternating gulps with choking coughs as her throat rebelled. “This was my husband’s family home. His grandfather crafted all the furniture. Tobias brought me here as a bride.” As she spoke, tears streamed down her face, leaving streaks in the soot.

  “I’m sorry, but we cannot tarry here. There’s still danger from artillery shells.” As the heat from the burning house increased, James retrieved her valise, gently clasped her arm, and drew her to a grove of trees across the street

  “I’ll be forever in your debt for saving my life.”

  James Downing, a man who confidently issued orders from dawn until dark, didn’t know how to respond. A woman with a smudged face and torn dress succeeded in doing what thousands of enemy troops couldn’t—render him speechless.

  He said the first thing that came to mind. “Keep drinking, Mrs. Howard. The water will do you good.” After she took another long swallow from the canteen, he turned her chin away from the smoldering ruins with one finger. “There is nothing left here.”

  “But this is all I have. Maybe I can fix a place to sleep in the barn until I’m able to rebuild.” She sounded resolute, but a quivering lip betrayed her emotions.

  “Impossible. There will be more fighting tomorrow. Allow me to offer you protection until this engagement has been decided.”

  Shaking her head, she pressed her fingertips to her temples. “How could I possibly come with you? I barely know you, sir. We are in the middle of a war.”

  “I’m well aware of that, madam, which is all the more reason to let me help until you can make other arrangements.” James felt his back stiffen and his face flush even though they stood far from the blaze. “Today’s battle was a mere taste of what’s to come.” As though to hone his point, an artillery shell burst over the trees, showering them with twigs and leaves.

  She wiped her palms down her skirt. “Very well. I’ll accompany you, providing I can bring the horses. One of them needs to be returned to the preacher.” She crossed her arms over her chest as though chilled by thoughts of a bleak future.

  James nodded and turned to his adjutant. “Major Henry, saddle Mrs. Howard’s mare and tether the gelding to my saddle. Have the men take whatever tack and saddles remain from the barn to prevent them from falling into enemy hands.”

  Despite the direct order, his adjutant remained motionless. “Mrs. Howard is coming with us, sir?”

  “Yes. We’ll provide temporary shelter for her,” James answered while placing a steadying hand on her back. She seemed ready to faint into the sunbaked weeds.

  “Yes, sir.” His chief of staff offered a frown with his salute and left him alone with a widow on the verge of hysteria.

  James racked his brain for something to say, to provide some distraction, but he came up empty. Instead, they silently stared at the flames leaping toward the sky, the fire’s smoke mingling with artillery haze, until an aide returned with Bo.

  Mrs. Howard mounted with the grace of one born to the saddle. She stroked the horse’s flank and murmured soothing words to calm the mare.

  “Thank you, Corporal,” he said. But the young man
couldn’t take his eyes off her. James could practically read his thoughts: Who is this woman who made an otherwise sane, middle-aged officer dash off as soon as the Rebs were in retreat?

  Who indeed? Settling his hat firmly on his head, James swung onto his own mount. The corporal handed up Mrs. Howard’s valise, and James set it securely in front of him. “Are you ready, Mrs. Howard?”

  She lifted her chin and nodded.

  He looked at his men. “Mount up. We’ll not stop until we reach headquarters.” They took off at a breakneck pace, yet she seemed to have no difficulty staying astride. Despite her torn dress, soot-streaked face, and hair in a wild tangle down her back, Madeline Howard held her head high. She rode away from the smoking embers of her home as though she’d already put the fire into her distant past.

  Who indeed? I have met my match for the second time today.

  Madeline rode with the group of Union soldiers down Chambersburg Pike in silence. Although darkness had nearly fallen, she saw hundreds of dead and wounded men dotting the fields in grotesque shapes. In death some had raised their arms toward heaven as though pleading for mercy. It might have been a common sight for the veterans of the Fourth Corps, but she was aghast. She stared with morbid curiosity until bile rose in the back of her throat. Then she could look no more. By the time they arrived at federal headquarters, emotional and physical exhaustion had taken its toll. She nearly fell from the saddle. The general led her through the parlor that looked exactly as it had when she’d pleaded for Bo’s return—a visit that seemed years ago.

  He opened the door to a spacious, brightly painted bedroom. “You may rest here for the night.” He set her valise on the floor next to a wall.

  Madeline gazed around the room. “Isn’t this someone’s home?”

  “Yes, but they won’t be returning soon.”

  It took little time to consider her options. “This will be fine. Thank you, General.”

  He pointed at a marble-topped table in the corner. “There is water and clean towels so you may refresh yourself.” He didn’t take his eyes off her.

  They were awkwardly alone for the first time since her rescue. Yet despite the fact he’d risked his life for her, she couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Madeline lifted the bag containing her few remaining possessions from the floor.

  “I’m sure you’re hungry. I will see that a plate is brought in.”

  Nodding her head, she clutched her valise to her chest like a shield.

  “Madeline.” He spoke sharply as though trying to get her attention.

  His familiarity snapped her from her stupor. “You’ve not been granted leave to use my given name, sir.” She strode across the room away from him like an angry schoolmarm.

  “Begging your pardon, Mrs. Howard, but I feared you’d taken leave of your senses.”

  “I’m in full control of my wits and prefer that you will take no undue liberties. I’ve heard tales of Union generals who tried to wield their power, and of women who threw themselves shamelessly at their feet.”

  “Where would a lady hear such things?”

  “The newspapers are full of such stories.”

  “Yes, of course. I will post a guard to ensure your privacy.” Bowing deeply, General Downing backed from the room.

  “Wait! Where are you going?” Her voice contained none of the spunk from moments ago.

  “To my troops camped in the field. Good night, Mrs. Howard.” He closed the door behind him with a clatter.

  She gazed out a window grimy from smoke and soot like everything else in town. Pushing up the sash, she found no relief in a gentle breeze from the west. She was alone in a stranger’s house, in a world turned upside down.

  Madeline awoke in a comfortable bed in a cheery room to the soothing sound of rain on a metal roof. Slowly, as the details of the previous day returned, her gut twisted into knots. Kicking off the quilt, she perused her accommodations. A fire had been laid on the hearth for the next cool evening behind an ornate metal screen. Along with the four-poster bed, a bentwood rocker and a chest of drawers furnished the former owner’s domain. She bathed at the basin for the second time since arriving, yet she couldn’t rid the scent of smoke from her hair. She hastily dressed in a fresh dress from her valise, fearful that a soldier would walk in unannounced. Voices drifted through the walls, but she couldn’t distinguish anything being said.

  Her rumbling stomach reminded her that it had been a long time since her last meal. She’d sampled the food provided last night, but the cold, indistinguishable meat had held little appeal. Dark specks peppering the coarse bread looked suspiciously like dead insects. So instead she had drank the weak tea and crawled into bed, achy with fatigue. Madeline pressed her ear to the door and then ventured forth when she no longer heard voices, but the parlor was far from empty. The general’s adjutant was leaning over the massive table.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Howard. I trust you slept well.” His tone contained none of the cordiality that usually accompanied such a greeting.

  “Very well, sir.” She smiled, clasping her hands behind her.

  “We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Major Justin Henry, General Downing’s senior staff officer.” His gaze raked her from head to toe before refocusing on the red-marked map on the table.

  Madeline walked to the window to peer out on the street, where soldiers on horseback galloped in both directions. Wagons and ambulances bumped over potholes created by heavy artillery caissons.

  A young man of no more than seventeen ran up the walkway to the house. “From General Sickles of the Third Corps,” he said. Saluting his superior officer, he held out a sheaf of papers.

  Major Henry pulled them from his grasp. “Wait for my orders on the porch,” he snapped. The boy flew from the room as quickly as he’d entered. “General Downing requested that you remain here where you will be safe.” The major spoke while scanning the newly delivered documents.

  It took Madeline a moment to realize he was addressing her. “And where might General Downing be?”

  “On the battlefield, madam, where we have engaged the enemy not a mile away.”

  “I was confused, sir, because you are still here.” She met and held his scornful gaze.

  “As the general’s chief of staff, I assist maneuvers from headquarters based on dispatches from other commanders. But none of this concerns you, Mrs. Howard. Your breakfast is in the kitchen under a linen cloth. Your horses have been cared for, and the privy is out back. General Downing’s orders were to protect you, but I have no time for further interruptions. I respectfully request that you stay in your room, out of my way.” He pointed at the bedroom door with a gloved finger.

  Incensed, Madeline strode to the kitchen as a minor act of defiance. Slumping onto a chair, she pulled off the linen napkin on the plate and devoured two flapjacks, a piece of dried bacon, and a shriveled apple. Today she chose not to inspect the food too closely. On the stove she found a pot of coffee, strong and still warm. Savoring a cup, Madeline assessed the kitchen—one wobbly table, five chairs, and a poorly made pine corner hutch that held the previous owner’s treasures—chipped and mismatched china. She felt a pang of sorrow for the unknown lady of the house. Such a pitiful collection of goods that undoubtedly represented years of hard work. But when she remembered that everything she owned was packed in a cloth satchel, her glumness deepened.

  On her way back to her room, she noticed that Major Henry and his aides never lifted their focus from their maps and drawings. Once she was behind a closed door again, she found a book on the bedside table to occupy her time, one certainly not left behind by the farmer.

  Trying not to think about her cherished possessions lost in the fire, Madeline settled in the rocking chair to read Medical Procedures for Regimental Surgeons and Nurses from the Office of the Medical Director of the Army. Despite the monstrous title, the volume contained interesting recipes for soups and stews to build strength in convalescing patients. She pored over the appl
ication of tourniquets and field dressings until her back grew stiff. Outside, the rain had ceased, leaving behind a mist hanging dismally over the streets. Dropping her head into her hands, Madeline began to sob. At first she cried for herself and everything she lost. Then she mourned for the countless men who lay dead or dying on the battlefields in the distance…

  Suddenly, she jarred awake with a crick in her neck and a sour taste in her mouth. She’d fallen asleep trying to distinguish the types of blood poisoning following limb amputations. The grisly descriptions had failed to hold her attention. Rising, she drew back the curtain on an eerily silent street. A white canvas medical wagon rattled down the thoroughfare, jostling its inhabitants mercilessly.

  Madeline squeezed her eyes closed and pressed fingertips to her ears. She neither wished to see nor hear anything that would haunt the rest of her days. She returned to the chair, uncertain what to do. Should she wait for a man who had promised to protect her? What if General Downing had perished or been grievously wounded? If so, how would she explain her presence at federal headquarters to whomever arrived to take command? Despite the fact she’d known him only a few days, she couldn’t bear the thought of him lying lifeless on the battlefield. Uttering a hasty prayer for his safety, Madeline hoped God wouldn’t consider her plea shamelessly selfish.

  Hours later, after the moon had risen over the horizon, she heard the sound of voices and the stomp of boot heels on the porch. Madeline held her breath until a sharp knock was heard at her door. She swiftly went to it and swung it open. “Goodness,” she gasped, wide eyed. “What has happened?”

  General Downing entered her room dusty and haggard, not the same distinguished officer whose horse had trampled daisies in her garden. Stubble darkened his jawline, and his boots were caked with mud and blood. “Mrs. Howard, I am relieved to find you here.”

  “I share your relief in that you’re still alive, sir.” Then she spotted a dirty bandage tied over his uniform sleeve. “Have you been wounded?” She quickly closed the distance between them.