Aaron continued pacing, though there was barely enough room to move about. “We got to get him out!”
“Now be reasonable, Aaron. How are we supposed to get Seth out of a Yankee prison in Kentucky? Neither one of us even knows how to get there.”
“We could ask along the way. We know it’s north of here.”
Megan became thoughtful. They couldn’t hope to break him out of prison, but couldn’t they trade for him? Trade a Union captain, for instance?
“I wish I had me a Yankee here now,” Aaron growled. “I’d kill him before he knew which end was up.”
“So would I,” Samuel said. “They’re no good, the lot of them. Shoot first and ask questions later, that’s what I’d do.”
“Had you thought that our Seth is safer in prison?” Sarah Ann asked, still clinging to her only hope. “Had you, Aaron?”
“Shut up and let me think.” Aaron stomped to the other side of the room and Bridget shifted out of his way.
“Seth is safer in prison, ain’t he, Jane?” Sarah Ann persisted.
Jane glanced at Megan. “Yes, I’m sure he is.”
Megan looked across the room at Bridget. Her sister stood in the shadows, twisting her narrow gold wedding band. She knew Bridget was worrying about Patrick. Bridget worried about him almost constantly, even when there wasn’t bad news pertaining to the war. Their eyes met and Megan said, “Patrick’s all right.”
Bridget nodded but her eyes still looked haunted. Megan knew what she was thinking. If this could happen to Seth, it could happen to Patrick, and if Seth had been captured in battle that meant Patrick had been fighting, too. He could be dead or wounded and word just hadn’t reached them yet.
“Patrick ain’t got nothing to do with this!” Aaron said angrily to Megan. “This here’s about your man! You’d think you’d at least shed a tear for him!”
“She’s never cried easy,” Jane said quickly. “You know that, Aaron. Megan almost never cries.”
“I’m as worried about him as you are,” Megan told Aaron. “You have all had time to think about it, and it’s still sinking in to me.”
“I can’t leave my oldest to rot in some stinking Yankee prison,” Aaron repeated to Samuel.
Megan opened her mouth to tell them about the Yankee captain at her house, but she remembered what both men had said about shooting a Yankee on sight. Even if they didn’t shoot him, they certainly wouldn’t let her give him any degree of comfort or medicine. In the settlement, they lived by an eye for an eye. If the soldier wasn’t tended, he might die and she wouldn’t have any bargaining power. Megan kept quiet.
For the next hour the Brennans sat in the close quarters of the Llewellyn cabin and poured out their anger and grief. Sarah Ann cried until her eyes were mere slits in the puffiness of her face, and Aaron roared until he was hoarse. As word spread through the settlement, others came to offer their sympathy or righteous anger. Brother Grady, along with his mousy wife, Elvira, and their herd of children, arrived with a plate of steaming food for Sarah Ann and Aaron’s supper, as though Seth were dead and not merely imprisoned. Sarah Ann accepted it gratefully.
As soon as she gracefully could, Megan escaped to the peace and quiet of her own cabin. She was glad it was up the mountain and less accessible to the others. She had her own way of grieving and it didn’t involve a public display of tears.
For a long time she sat in the main room of her house, rocking in the uneven chair and thinking what this could mean. It was common knowledge that sickness ran rampant in prisons and that the food the men ate was no better than slop. Seth might never get out. The war had been expected to be of short duration, but it had already lasted four years and could go on until there were no men left to fight. She couldn’t depend on it ending quickly and Seth being released.
Her eyes drifted toward the closed door to her bedroom. She heard a small sound in there, as if the soldier were regaining consciousness. He would be her best bet for getting Seth back. Wouldn’t the Union army prefer to have one of their officers back than keep a Confederate private who would rather be home instead of fighting? Surely by now all the fight had gone out of Seth. It took whiskey to make him really cantankerous.
She heard the sound again. She stood and crossed the room to get the squirrel gun she kept behind the door in case of intruders. She was going to nurse the soldier back to health, no matter what it took.
When Caleb opened his eyes, he was looking at the barrel of a shotgun. He blinked, trying to make sense of it. A glance told him he was lying in a strange cabin. Holding the gun unwaveringly was one of the prettiest women he had seen since leaving Pollard’s Crossing, Ohio.
“How do you feel?” she asked, not lowering the gun.
“I hurt like... I hurt.” Caleb had been brought up from birth not to use strong language in front of ladies and he automatically censored what he had been about to say. “Where am I?”
“You’re in my cabin, Mr....”
“My name is Captain Caleb Morgan.” Speaking made him hurt from head to toe. “Who are you?”
“I’m Megan Llewellyn.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “Where do you hurt worse?”
“Everywhere. Could you put that gun down? I’m not going anywhere.”
She lowered the barrel. He tried to focus his eyes in spite of the pain. She was a small woman, not much taller than the rifle she carried. The light coming from the only window gave red highlights to her dark hair, and her skin was milky white. Her brown eyes glared at him as if she had a personal vendetta against him. Under different circumstances he would have found her extremely attractive.
Caleb lifted the quilt and looked down. He was naked under the covers and there were bandages on his right thigh and upper left arm. Reflexively he pulled the quilt up to cover himself. She didn’t seem to care that he was showing more skin than was decent. “How did I get here?” He was having trouble remembering what happened before he lost consciousness. Hadn’t he been in a battle?
“I brought you. You were shot in the leg and there’s a cut on your arm. I guess they didn’t find you when they came after the dead and wounded. You were in the woods by your horse.”
“Surely you didn’t carry me here all by yourself.”
“Yes, I did. You helped some.”
“I don’t remember it at all.” He tried to shift to a more comfortable position and she quickly raised the rifle again. “Will you calm down? I couldn’t hurt you if I wanted to.” He pulled himself up to a half-sitting position, ignoring the pain that racked him. “Where’s your husband?”
“I’m not married.”
“Your parents, then. Surely you don’t live here alone.”
“Yes, I do. My parents and sister live downhill from here in the settlement.”
“Why would you live here all alone, as young as you are? Are you a widow?”
“I was promised to marry Seth Brennan, but he enlisted before the wedding. I’m living here to take care of our house until he comes home.”
“I see.” Caleb couldn’t have cared less about these details; he only wanted to put her at her ease so she would stop pointing the rifle at him. At this range, she would kill him with one shot.
“No, sir, I don’t believe you do. Seth was captured and is in a Yankee prison. I plan to trade you for him and get him back.”
“I see.”
“Stop