The Lady and the Officer (5 page)

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.