Cole's Promise Read online

  “You’re working here, too?” Claire asked.

  Betsy scanned the inner tent, then smiled. “Yes, I’m assigned to Dr. Worley. As his assistant for the day.”

  Claire pursed her lips and folded her arms across her chest. “So was I.”

  “Oh.” Betsy turned away, apparently not willing to show her disappointment. “So, I suppose we both will assist him.”

  “I suppose.” Claire agreed. She enjoyed the frown on Betsy’s face. She knew, for a fact, the woman volunteered to serve in camp to find herself an eligible officer. She’d apparently set her sights on the handsome surgeon.

  Betsy gathered her skirts and sidled past empty cots to the back of the tent. A young steward stood at the table sorting medical instruments. “Young man, where is Dr. Worley? I was assigned to assist him today.”

  The steward glanced up. “Not here, yet, ma’am.” He nodded at both women, his round face showing just a hint of blond peach-fuzz on his chin. “He said I was to start you rolling bandages until he gets here.”

  Betsy huffed. “Well, when will that be?”

  “Sorry, ma’am, I truly can’t say.”

  Claire brushed past Betsy as the steward pulled a box from a shelf and set it on the edge of a cot. “You can sit here. If you need me to show you…”

  Betsy frowned and plopped onto the cot. “I’ve rolled bandages before, young man.”

  Claire nodded. “If we need any help, we’ll let you know.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The steward returned his attention to his task.

  Claire settled on a cot across from Betsy and started sorting the materials.

  The other woman seethed. “If I’d know I was being sent here to roll bandages…” She lifted her chin and glared.

  “What did you expect to be doing?” Claire asked.

  “Why assisting the surgeon, of course. I want to be assigned as a nurse, but the matrons all say I’m too pretty.” She waved her arms as if to emphasize her features and figure. “Now, what does being too pretty have to do with the ability to practice nursing?”

  Claire shrugged. “I’ve no idea. Women have been nursing family members for generations.”

  “Yes.” Betsy nodded. “We’re better equipped to nurse the sick and wounded than boys.” She waved toward the steward, whose blond head was bent over the table. “We have the nature to comfort the sick and wounded. Why not allow us to do it, instead of using us for such mundane tasks?” She gestured at the lint and linen spread out on the cot.

  Claire shook her head. “I really can’t say.”

  Betsy sat up straight as her attention focused on the tent entrance.

  Claire turned to catch a glimpse of the back of a man in uniform. He stood outside the entrance conversing with someone out of sight. He turned and pushed open the tent flap.

  Betsy’s face colored. “The captain,” she whispered.

  Dr. Worley entered the tent, nodding to them. “Ladies, I see Private Hibbs gave you your assignments for the day.”

  He turned to slip past them, but Betsy stopped him with a hand on his wool sleeve. “Doctor, I’d wondered if rolling bandages is to be the extent of our task for today.” She batted her long, dark lashes. “I can do so much more, if you’d allow me.”

  He frowned and seemed to study her, then glanced at Claire. His lips, under the mustache he wore, tipped up a bit at the corners. “Well, let’s see how fast you can roll those bandages. If the men are engaged, we’ll have need of many more rolls than we have at present. Then, I’ll see if I can find you something more to do.”

  An hour passed quietly. The doctor sent the young steward out on an errand and Worley, filling out paperwork in the back of the tent, had removed his topcoat and rolled up his sleeves. Betsy’s gaze never left him, except to glance down to be sure she completed her task satisfactorily.

  Worley shrugged back into his coat. “Ladies, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve things to attend elsewhere in camp.”

  Betsy frowned. “But you’ll be coming back.”

  “Not for a while, I’m afraid. I’ll send a few men in to spell you so you can refresh yourselves. Good day.” He sidled past them.

  “But…” Before Betsy could voice her protest, Doctor Worley was gone.

  “Well…” Red-faced, she threw down the bandage she was rolling. “I’m not staying here another minute.” She rose and smoothed her skirts.

  “We’re supposed to wait for relief,” Claire reminded her.

  “You can wait if you want, but I’m leaving.” She strode to the entrance and disappeared.

  Claire sighed and glanced around. She’d do as she’d been ordered but was tired of rolling bandages all morning. She’d be glad to be spelled.

  Several minutes passed, and she started to wonder if she’d ever get out of here. Movement outside the tent drew her gaze. A soldier entered, removing his cap.

  “Pardon me, ma’am, but the doc…” He stopped short, his mouth gaping.

  “Lieutenant?” The soldier she’d handed the letter to yesterday stood before her. “You’re my relief?”

  He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She gestured to the empty cot across from her. “I was assigned to roll bandages. My helpmate wasn’t feeling well and left.”

  “You’re all alone?” the lieutenant glanced around the tent.

  “Yes, it seems so.”

  He perched across from her. “You can leave, then ma’am. I’ll take over from here.”

  Claire leaned forward, on the verge of rising, but hesitated. She wanted to know more about this man. His pine, leather, and wood smoke scent held great appeal. Despite her wariness of growing close to a soldier who could be taken from her during the next battle, she didn’t wish to leave without at least knowing more about him.

  She laughed lightly and cleared her throat. “Have a seat Lieutenant Manning. I can stay a bit longer.”

  He hesitated but then nodded and took the spot Betsy had vacated. “It was Miss Hirsch, I believe.”

  “Yes, you remembered.” A secret thrill raced over her knowing he’d recalled her name. But the thought of the letter from his girl slowed her racing heart. “I…ah…do hope you received good news from home yesterday.”

  The lieutenant frowned. “It was nothing of any consequence, ma’am.”

  Claire bit her lip. The man obviously didn’t wish to reveal what the letter said. She changed the subject.

  “I’m from Philadelphia, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t, ma’am.” The lieutenant’s smile returned. “I’m from a small town near York myself but would love to hear all about life in the big city.”

  Claire returned his smile. His lips, beneath a light mustache and beard, were full and well-formed. She imagined what it might be like to kiss him, but her face heated at the scandalous thought.

  “Well, Lieutenant, we have time.” She picked up a wad of lint and roll of linen. “Let’s get to work, and I’ll tell you all about life in the big city.”

  ****

  Cole stared across camp as scattered fire pits brightened the darkening sky. The afternoon he’d shared with Miss Hirsch had been delightful. Although her stories of living in Philadelphia were entertaining, he found himself distracted by her scent and the warmth of her body so close to him. A couple of times, their knees accidentally touched, sending sparks of longing up his spine.

  After being spurned by the girl he’d planned to love forever, it was impossible for him to have feelings like this for someone else. Someone who might already be spoken for. Although he’d torn up Hannah’s tintype, his most recent memory of her was etched in his brain. They’d spent a snow filled afternoon building a snowman outside her home as they’d done every year since they’d been children.

  Hannah had raced into her house to find an appropriate hat and scarf for their masterpiece, as well as carrot sticks for the eyes and lumps of coal for the nose and mouth. After Cole dressed the snowman, Hannah nodded.

  “He’s perfect.�
� Her enraptured face turned to Cole.

  “And so are you, my dear,” he answered.

  She smiled, then shoved him, landing atop him in the pile of snow. He rolled her over so she lay beneath him. Her laughter floated in the frigid air, her face red and eyes bright.

  “Hannah, I want you to know I’ll stay faithful to you when I return to my regiment.”

  Her eyes shadowed. “I don’t want you to go so soon. We’ve hardly had any time together.”

  “I know.” He lifted off her, then stood, reaching out a hand to help her to her feet. A glance toward her house reminded him they weren’t exactly alone, but he couldn’t help but press a chaste kiss to her nose, his lips drifting toward hers.

  After the briefest of kisses, Hannah broke free. “I can’t stand the thought of you being so far away for so long. When will I see you again?”

  Cole shook his head. “I can’t say, dearest. But I want you to promise me, you’ll wait…and if I don’t return…”

  She pressed a mitten covered hand to his mouth. “Don’t say that, Cole. Never say that. You will return, and I’ll be waiting, no matter how long it takes.”

  Cole grimaced as he stared at the full moon on this clear, summer night. She’d promised and she’d lied. He was glad he’d torn up the tintype. Women weren’t to be trusted. They wouldn’t wait for any man, if another came along to give them what they craved.

  “Lieutenant?”

  Cole glanced across to the opposite row of tents where a man stood, lantern in hand.

  “Captain?” Cole stood at attention.

  Captain Stevenson approached. “I need a few men to go out on patrol duty. Your men did a fine job two nights ago of protecting the camp, and I’d like you to gather up another patrol for tonight.”

  “Yes, sir.” Cole saluted. Maybe this was just what he needed to get his mind off women.

  ****

  Claire strolled through camp holding a lantern aloft. A few of the other women had already retired for the night, but she was restless. If she crawled onto her cot now, she’d only toss and turn and keep her tent mates awake.

  Men’s subdued voices caught her attention. Glancing behind her, she spotted a line of men in the shadows heading out of camp. The man at the front of the line looked familiar. She turned and set down the lantern to study the group.

  “Keep a tight line and stay in formation. Anyone sees anything out of the ordinary, give a shout.”

  A soft chorus of “Yes, sir.” answered his command.

  Claire caught her breath as she realized the commanding officer was Lieutenant Manning. They were obviously going on patrol. She turned away, then snatched her lantern. Images of Richard’s final hours in battle sent shivers up her spine.

  I’ll never fall in love with a soldier, never, ever again.

  She tread carefully away from the sound of men’s voices and booted feet thumping the ground, wondering if he’d return and in what condition.

  Chapter Three

  Cole led the men along the same route around camp as the first night. Although he didn’t expect to find a Rebel patrol scouting their camp again so soon, it wasn’t entirely impossible. The Union camp hadn’t moved for months, so the enemy might try to find a way in and gather needed information or supplies for the Confederate army.

  “Stay sharp, men,” he ordered. “We took them by surprise the other night, so if they have returned, they’ll be a hell of lot sneakier.”

  “Yes, sir,” Corporal Fairfax murmured, as did a few men behind him.

  Cole led the men through the woods skirting the boundary of the Union camp. He hoped they wouldn’t have to engage anyone, but the Rebs never gave up trying, even this far north. The night sky was clear enough—the moon still near full—so they weren’t left in total darkness, but even so, shadows were the only indications of activity this deep in the wooded area.

  After a full circuit of the camp, he stopped the men, preparing to head back.

  One of the men sidled up beside him, his voice a harsh whisper. “Sir, there’s a sound and some movement over yonder.” He raised his arm to point to the right, the direction Cole had planned to lead his men.

  “You sure?” On close inspection, Cole realized the man speaking was Private Upwood. The possibility the lad was spooked briefly entered Cole’s mind.

  “Yes, sir. Miles heard them, too.” He gestured toward his fellow private. “We think it may be another Reb patrol.”

  Cole ordered the group to hunker down until he could make out who was out there.

  After what seemed an eternity, the sound of crunching brush and men’s muffled voices caught Cole’s hearing. “Hold until I give the order.” The men gathered around him, rifles ready.

  Crunching and voices grew louder as the patrol approached. “Hold, men,” Cole reemphasized. “We’ll take them by surprise.”

  “They’re heading right for camp,” one of the men stated.

  Cole couldn’t see his face in the darkness beneath the trees but recognized the sergeant’s gruff voice.

  “Well, then, we’ll just have to run them into the pickets.” Cole rose and waved his arm. “Follow me.”

  The group rose as one, and Cole edged his way across the brush in an effort to cut off and force the patrol to where he knew the picket line to be. Their intentions, obviously, were to incapacitate the picket line to gain entrance into the camp.

  Cole led his men toward the line, hoping to both alert the guards and lead the Rebels just where he wanted them to be. They’d be surrounded, cut off.

  “Upwood, Kenney, head over there.” He pointed toward the pickets to show the privates where to go. “Draw them away, and we’ll go around to the back.”

  The other men nodded. The two privates took off like rabbits.

  Shouting and the flare of gunfire caused Cole to draw a breath. He hoped to God his boys weren’t hit. A loud cry set his pulse racing. The Rebel patrol moved toward the cry.

  “Now!” Cole ordered. “Go around them.” He waved his arm to send the men on the heels of the Rebels.

  More shouts sounded, this time from the Union camp. The picket line had been alerted.

  By the time Cole and his men shifted to the back end of the Rebel patrol, their leader had called for retreat. Cole and his men ran right into them.

  A big Rebel tackled Cole, dragging him to the ground. He pounded the man in his whiskered face until he fell to the side, enabling Cole to free himself. Men around him engaged in hand-to-hand combat. Cole crouched, but the big Rebel grabbed his leg, knocking him flat on his back. Something slashed across Cole’s arm, a sharp stinging pain.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here, men,” a hoarse voice called.

  Bodies shuffled around Cole, one thumping his side with a booted foot. He tried to rise, but his head throbbed, leaving him nauseous.

  Voices and more men entered the scene. “Lieutenant, are you all right?”

  Cole recognized the voice of Sergeant Karl Mallory. He nodded. “Help me up.” He reached out his good arm.

  Once on his feet, he surveyed the scene. Lanterns glowed at the edge of the picket line, giving a better view of his surroundings. A few of his men lay on the ground, one crying out. Another moaning.

  “Were those Rebs planning to walk right by us, sir?” one of the pickets asked.

  Cole glanced back at the crushed brush in the direction the Rebels had fled. “No, I think they’d already scouted out the camp layout and were trying to find another way in.”

  “A sneak attack?”

  “I can’t say. We’re in northern territory now. They must be getting desperate. We’ll have to stay on top of the situation until we break camp.”

  “Yes, sir.” The guard lifted his lantern. “Sir, you need to get to camp and get your arm looked at.”

  Cole glanced down at his blood-drenched coat sleeve. Whatever had struck him must have been a bayonet or sword. It stung like hell. “I will, but first, I must see to my men.”

&nb
sp; A picket supplied Cole with a towel to wrap around his wounded forearm. He winced when he spotted one of the young privates he’d sent out to draw the Rebels, lying on a stretcher. The lad had suffered a gunshot wound to the thigh. Two soldiers took him to the hospital tent.

  The other members of the patrol suffered mostly minor cuts and scrapes, and one of the corporals appeared to have a broken nose. But no fatalities. Cole breathed a sigh of relief.

  The patrol, flanked by pickets, trudged into camp. Cole dismissed the men and led the wounded ones toward the hospital tent.

  ****

  Claire jumped at the sound of a gunshot. Since Cole’s patrol had left, she’d been unable to sleep. She’d tossed and turned and finally threw on her wrapper and left the confines of the tent. She strolled through camp, her way lit by moonlight and a few dim lanterns. The shot sounded close. Too close.

  Racing to the hospital tent, she caught the sound of muffled male voices. Lanterns lit the interior. She pulled back the flap, catching sight of Doctor Worley, garbed in shirtsleeves, his suspenders hanging to his knees.

  “Doctor, what’s happened?” she called.

  He turned and squinted in her direction, then set his spectacles on the bridge of his nose. “Miss Hirsch, is it?”

  “I heard a gunshot.” Claire’s heart thrummed.

  “I believe there was a minor skirmish with the pickets just outside camp.”

  Claire’s heart dropped. “What about the patrol?”

  “Word is a small patrol of Rebels was attempting to infiltrate the camp, but our patrol confronted and vanquished them.”

  Claire shivered. The thought of enemy soldiers just outside sent a jolt of ice cold fear down her spine. But another thought caused her pulse to race. “Where is the patrol that left camp? Are they the ones involved in the skirmish?”

  The surgeon nodded. “They’re bringing the casualties in as we speak.”