| Confederate Rose Chapter One |
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Chapter One
Near Winchester, Virginia
March 2, 1863
Katie O'Reilly tensed as she stared at the swift-running stream. Trees cast long shadows across the rushing
water, and the air held a biting chill. Her stomach emitted a growl, protesting not having had anything to eat
since she'd departed earlier that morning. She yanked the empty canteen's cork to refill it before continuing
the journey. As she neared the frigid water, her hands shook. Her mare, hitched to an oak tree, shook its
mane and pawed the ground with the left hoof.
"I know, Morna." Katie glanced at the mare. "Allow me to complete me task, and we'll be on our way."
Near Winchester, Virginia
March 2, 1863
Katie O'Reilly tensed as she stared at the swift-running stream. Trees cast long shadows across the rushing
water, and the air held a biting chill. Her stomach emitted a growl, protesting not having had anything to eat
since she'd departed earlier that morning. She yanked the empty canteen's cork to refill it before continuing
the journey. As she neared the frigid water, her hands shook. Her mare, hitched to an oak tree, shook its
mane and pawed the ground with the left hoof.
"I know, Morna." Katie glanced at the mare. "Allow me to complete me task, and we'll be on our way."
| Confederate Rose American Historical Romance The Wild Rose Press |
She bit her lip and turned back to the icy water. With heart pounding, she stretched the arm
holding the canteen toward the white-foamed breakers.
"There's nothing to fear," she recited. Nevertheless, she planted her brogans securely on the
bank.
A cracking sound, like a branch snapping, stilled the outstretched arm. "Morna?"
The mare whinnied. Katie whirled. A man stood beside the gray-white dappled horse. She
reached for the butt of her sidearm tucked into her belt and pulled the brim of her hat down to
conceal her face.
The man stood stock-still and didn't speak. Apparently, he'd hoped to make off with the pack or
her horse.
He wore a greatcoat, so she couldn't tell if a uniform of either North or South lay beneath. Likely,
he was a local civilian. A black wide-brimmed hat covered his head, under which thick chestnut
-colored hair touched his collar. A full beard half-concealed his face.
holding the canteen toward the white-foamed breakers.
"There's nothing to fear," she recited. Nevertheless, she planted her brogans securely on the
bank.
A cracking sound, like a branch snapping, stilled the outstretched arm. "Morna?"
The mare whinnied. Katie whirled. A man stood beside the gray-white dappled horse. She
reached for the butt of her sidearm tucked into her belt and pulled the brim of her hat down to
conceal her face.
The man stood stock-still and didn't speak. Apparently, he'd hoped to make off with the pack or
her horse.
He wore a greatcoat, so she couldn't tell if a uniform of either North or South lay beneath. Likely,
he was a local civilian. A black wide-brimmed hat covered his head, under which thick chestnut
-colored hair touched his collar. A full beard half-concealed his face.
Katie swallowed hard and tried to speak in her most commanding voice. "Are you lost, sir?" She gripped her pistol.
The man relaxed his stance. Perhaps he thought her too small to present a threat. He glanced from Katie to the mare, then downward to
the mailbag she'd been carrying to camp.
Katie's hands clenched. While alone in the forest, she'd been careful to avoid enemy soldiers, thieves or worse, but this man had
surprised her. What was he doing here? He looked again at the mailbag, then at her as if speculating on his chances of snatching it.
"Ye'll not be stealing me things!" She yanked at her belt, fingering the pistol.
The man didn't move.
A final tug freed the gun. Katie lost her balance on the ice-slicked edge of the bank and slid backward. She spun her arms and tried to
stop the momentum but couldn't halt a fall into the swollen, rushing stream. Sharp needles of frigid water stabbed, sending a jolt through
her body. Despite attempts to regain her footing on the rocky stream bed, she slid farther to where she couldn't reach the bottom.
Icy water closed over her head. Blindly, she lashed at the clear, cold breakers that tossed her from side to side. Forced up against a thick
branch lodged between two rocks, she grasped it, trying to pull herself to safety, but her hands slipped.
God help, me! I'm going to die!
Strong arms clamped around her middle and pulled her backward against the current and out of the water. Limp like a rag doll, she
allowed herself to be carried and deposited on the bank.
She curled into a ball, lungs heaving, and coughed up water she'd swallowed. She lay shivering on the frozen ground and watched the
man who'd rescued her shake water from his clothes and stamp his feet.
He glanced at their surroundings and swore.
Katie's heart pounded. What possibly could this man want? Whatever it was, she wasn't giving up anything without a fight. She reached
out, grabbed his leg, and threw him off balance. He landed beside her with a thud.
"What do you mean to do?" she croaked.
The man gaped. "Son, I'm only trying to help--"
Self-protective instincts took over. She hauled back her fist and socked him in the jaw--her hand so numb, she didn't feel the blow.
"See here, boy!" The man tried to rise.
Katie slammed into him head first and sent both of them back into the stream.
"Are you some kinda lunatic?" he yelled. He grasped her waist and pulled her from the water, then straddled her while she gasped for air.
Cornflower blue eyes shaded by dark lashes regarded Katie warily. "Settle down. I don't intend to hurt you." His tone held an irritable edge.
Katie convulsed in a fit of coughing. "Let me up," she gasped.
"Only if you promise not to wallop me again." He rubbed his jaw. "For a scrawny fella, you pack quite a punch."
She stared up at the man. If he were a thief, why had he jumped into the stream to save her? He could've taken everything she had and
allowed her to drown. She studied him. The man had a handsome face, even though his hair was plastered to his head. Water dripped
from his beard onto his shirt. He tried to look stern but failed. He spoke with a Southern drawl and seemed amused by the whole
situation.
And he hadn't seen through her disguise.
"Sir," she said, "would you be so kind as to let me up now? I promise not to hit you again."
He rose with a grunt, then reached out a hand and pulled Katie to her feet.
"I've got a quilt in me pack. Me mare is just..." She looked around trying to catch a glimpse of Morna.
He inclined his head to the right. "Your pack's several yards that way. The current took us downstream. If I hadn'ta jumped right in after you,
I would've lost you."
Katie eyed the stream and shuddered as she imagined being swept away.
"I'll get you back to your horse, then we can lead her up the trail to where my gelding is hitched. I've got two wool blankets in my pack, and
my greatcoat is back on the bank where you fell in."
Katie nodded, still unsure of his intentions, but they were both soaked and shivering. They needed to get warm--and soon.
He led her back to the spot and bent down to retrieve his coat. The mare pranced and stamped when they approached.
Katie patted her mount, speaking softly to calm her. "There, Morna." She had been the foal of the original Morna, the first horse she'd
owned and learned to ride on the O'Reilly farm. When the Yankees had taken her mare....She didn't want to think back to that horrible day.
She rifled through her pack, produced a patchwork quilt, and handed it to the stranger, but he shook his head.
"Wrap it around yourself. I'll use my blankets." He inclined his head toward the rise. "Just bring your horse and follow me."
Katie wrapped herself in the quilt, untied Morna, and followed the man's lead.
****
Alex Hart patted Rusty's flank, retrieved his blankets, and offered one to the boy.
The lad crinkled his delicate, freckle-spattered nose. "No, sir, I'm fine with me quilt," he said in a thick brogue.
"The hell you are," Alex scoffed. "Your teeth are chattering, and you're shaking. Take it."
The boy grasped his offering and used it to rub his flame-red, collar-length curls then draped the coarse, gray blanket over the quilt. Alex
studied him. He was tall--coming to Alex's nose--and gangly, but he seemed a bit too pretty for a boy. The broad-brimmed hat he'd worn
when Alex had first spotted him crouched by the water's edge had been taken downstream.
'What's your name?" Alex asked.
"Sean O'Reilly."
"I've been around enough military camps to reckon you're a soldier."
The lad blinked, hesitant. Clear, gray eyes seemed to assess Alex.
"I'm not a Yankee," Alex assured him.
"And you, sir..." The boy squinted. "Who might you be?"
He didn't see any harm in using his real name. "Alexander Hart, at your service."
"Mister Hart, is it? Yer not with the army, then?"
Alex sighed. When disguised as a civilian, he always had to be ready to answer this question, since most able-bodied men had enlisted
in the army. "I'm a battefield reporter for a Richmond newspaper, but I'm currently on leave."
"Richmond?" The boy's eyes narrowed. "Yer a long way from home, then."
Alex nodded. "My family has a farm near here."
The lad shivered, his brow furrowed.
Alex hoped the boy wouldn't read anything into his questions, except idle curiosity. But the lad's reticence about himself made Alex wonder
about the pack. He didn't believe it contained only the lad's personal belongings. His guess that O'Reilly was a Condederate mail carrier
could work to Alex's advantage. If he could gain the boy's confidence, he might be able to get that bag. His main problem would be hiding
it until he could go through it for any useful information.
"I would suggest we both get out of these wet clothes before it gets dark."
"Yer not saying we should disrobe out here." The lad's eyes widened.
Alex glanced around. "There's no one here to see us but the horses."
****
Katie shivered. She couldn't undress in front of this man. He'd discover she was female. What was she to do?
"You must have some dry clothes in your pack."
"I need to be getting back," she protested.
"That can wait until you put on something dry. How far do you have to go?"
To read more, click here.
The man relaxed his stance. Perhaps he thought her too small to present a threat. He glanced from Katie to the mare, then downward to
the mailbag she'd been carrying to camp.
Katie's hands clenched. While alone in the forest, she'd been careful to avoid enemy soldiers, thieves or worse, but this man had
surprised her. What was he doing here? He looked again at the mailbag, then at her as if speculating on his chances of snatching it.
"Ye'll not be stealing me things!" She yanked at her belt, fingering the pistol.
The man didn't move.
A final tug freed the gun. Katie lost her balance on the ice-slicked edge of the bank and slid backward. She spun her arms and tried to
stop the momentum but couldn't halt a fall into the swollen, rushing stream. Sharp needles of frigid water stabbed, sending a jolt through
her body. Despite attempts to regain her footing on the rocky stream bed, she slid farther to where she couldn't reach the bottom.
Icy water closed over her head. Blindly, she lashed at the clear, cold breakers that tossed her from side to side. Forced up against a thick
branch lodged between two rocks, she grasped it, trying to pull herself to safety, but her hands slipped.
God help, me! I'm going to die!
Strong arms clamped around her middle and pulled her backward against the current and out of the water. Limp like a rag doll, she
allowed herself to be carried and deposited on the bank.
She curled into a ball, lungs heaving, and coughed up water she'd swallowed. She lay shivering on the frozen ground and watched the
man who'd rescued her shake water from his clothes and stamp his feet.
He glanced at their surroundings and swore.
Katie's heart pounded. What possibly could this man want? Whatever it was, she wasn't giving up anything without a fight. She reached
out, grabbed his leg, and threw him off balance. He landed beside her with a thud.
"What do you mean to do?" she croaked.
The man gaped. "Son, I'm only trying to help--"
Self-protective instincts took over. She hauled back her fist and socked him in the jaw--her hand so numb, she didn't feel the blow.
"See here, boy!" The man tried to rise.
Katie slammed into him head first and sent both of them back into the stream.
"Are you some kinda lunatic?" he yelled. He grasped her waist and pulled her from the water, then straddled her while she gasped for air.
Cornflower blue eyes shaded by dark lashes regarded Katie warily. "Settle down. I don't intend to hurt you." His tone held an irritable edge.
Katie convulsed in a fit of coughing. "Let me up," she gasped.
"Only if you promise not to wallop me again." He rubbed his jaw. "For a scrawny fella, you pack quite a punch."
She stared up at the man. If he were a thief, why had he jumped into the stream to save her? He could've taken everything she had and
allowed her to drown. She studied him. The man had a handsome face, even though his hair was plastered to his head. Water dripped
from his beard onto his shirt. He tried to look stern but failed. He spoke with a Southern drawl and seemed amused by the whole
situation.
And he hadn't seen through her disguise.
"Sir," she said, "would you be so kind as to let me up now? I promise not to hit you again."
He rose with a grunt, then reached out a hand and pulled Katie to her feet.
"I've got a quilt in me pack. Me mare is just..." She looked around trying to catch a glimpse of Morna.
He inclined his head to the right. "Your pack's several yards that way. The current took us downstream. If I hadn'ta jumped right in after you,
I would've lost you."
Katie eyed the stream and shuddered as she imagined being swept away.
"I'll get you back to your horse, then we can lead her up the trail to where my gelding is hitched. I've got two wool blankets in my pack, and
my greatcoat is back on the bank where you fell in."
Katie nodded, still unsure of his intentions, but they were both soaked and shivering. They needed to get warm--and soon.
He led her back to the spot and bent down to retrieve his coat. The mare pranced and stamped when they approached.
Katie patted her mount, speaking softly to calm her. "There, Morna." She had been the foal of the original Morna, the first horse she'd
owned and learned to ride on the O'Reilly farm. When the Yankees had taken her mare....She didn't want to think back to that horrible day.
She rifled through her pack, produced a patchwork quilt, and handed it to the stranger, but he shook his head.
"Wrap it around yourself. I'll use my blankets." He inclined his head toward the rise. "Just bring your horse and follow me."
Katie wrapped herself in the quilt, untied Morna, and followed the man's lead.
****
Alex Hart patted Rusty's flank, retrieved his blankets, and offered one to the boy.
The lad crinkled his delicate, freckle-spattered nose. "No, sir, I'm fine with me quilt," he said in a thick brogue.
"The hell you are," Alex scoffed. "Your teeth are chattering, and you're shaking. Take it."
The boy grasped his offering and used it to rub his flame-red, collar-length curls then draped the coarse, gray blanket over the quilt. Alex
studied him. He was tall--coming to Alex's nose--and gangly, but he seemed a bit too pretty for a boy. The broad-brimmed hat he'd worn
when Alex had first spotted him crouched by the water's edge had been taken downstream.
'What's your name?" Alex asked.
"Sean O'Reilly."
"I've been around enough military camps to reckon you're a soldier."
The lad blinked, hesitant. Clear, gray eyes seemed to assess Alex.
"I'm not a Yankee," Alex assured him.
"And you, sir..." The boy squinted. "Who might you be?"
He didn't see any harm in using his real name. "Alexander Hart, at your service."
"Mister Hart, is it? Yer not with the army, then?"
Alex sighed. When disguised as a civilian, he always had to be ready to answer this question, since most able-bodied men had enlisted
in the army. "I'm a battefield reporter for a Richmond newspaper, but I'm currently on leave."
"Richmond?" The boy's eyes narrowed. "Yer a long way from home, then."
Alex nodded. "My family has a farm near here."
The lad shivered, his brow furrowed.
Alex hoped the boy wouldn't read anything into his questions, except idle curiosity. But the lad's reticence about himself made Alex wonder
about the pack. He didn't believe it contained only the lad's personal belongings. His guess that O'Reilly was a Condederate mail carrier
could work to Alex's advantage. If he could gain the boy's confidence, he might be able to get that bag. His main problem would be hiding
it until he could go through it for any useful information.
"I would suggest we both get out of these wet clothes before it gets dark."
"Yer not saying we should disrobe out here." The lad's eyes widened.
Alex glanced around. "There's no one here to see us but the horses."
****
Katie shivered. She couldn't undress in front of this man. He'd discover she was female. What was she to do?
"You must have some dry clothes in your pack."
"I need to be getting back," she protested.
"That can wait until you put on something dry. How far do you have to go?"
To read more, click here.
copyright 2009 by Susan Macatee