Erin's Rebel (20 page)

Erin stood at the threshold of the funeral parlor room where Grandma Rose had been laid for viewing. The cloying scent of so many flowers crammed into the small space had sent her out to get some air, while her mother and other relatives held court before the oak coffin.

As she stepped back inside, mourners offered their sympathy. After accepting their condolences, she approached the body. Grandma looked small and frail as she had just before her death. Erin laid a hand on the smooth edge of the coffin. A jolt shot through her, turning her knees to jelly. Grandma’s blue eyes opened wide.

Erin gasped. No one around her seemed to notice. Her gaze locked with Grandma’s. Her pale lips parted. “You are Erin O’Connell,” she said.

“What?”

Erin sat bolt upright. A dream.

Jenny’s steady breathing brought her back to reality. She remained in the past. But Grandma had said she
was
Erin O’Connell.

She perched on the edge of her cot. Before coming here, she’d speculated about the dreams being memories of a past life. Was
she
the Yankee spy Grandma had told her stories about?

If that were true, it would explain a lot, except for why she was here now. If she’d lived this life before, why had she no memory of what was to happen? Could she be lying in a coma reliving her past life, while she still retained memories of her life in the twenty-first century?

Trembling, she gathered the quilt about her, rose, and left the tent. She paced the length of the overhead tarp, forcing herself to remember. If she
had
lived this life before, she had to know how the story ended.

Erin slowed her pacing as she started to feel separated from her body. She was on a ship, feeling the pitch of the waves beneath her feet. Halting, she concentrated on the vision forcing its way into her mind.

****

She’d been seasick for days as the ship continued to heave and roll. Some of the passengers were ill, but not all from the sea—they were starving. That’s why they’d left their home. The English had made life in Ireland unbearable.

She’d hated leaving her parents, but they’d urged their offspring to go to America. They wanted their children to have a chance at a better life. At the dock of Killarney, her parents stood huddled, frail, sunken, and defeated, sending their children—their future—away forever. That was the last she’d seen her ma and da.

Days later, after the sea finally calmed, she made her way on deck, raising her face and closing her eyes to absorb the warmth of the sun.

“Here, lass.” A male voice startled her. “You look like you could use this.”

She looked into the eyes of an auburn-haired man, holding out a crust of brown bread.

Eyeing him suspiciously, she took in his shabby state of dress. But his hazel eyes were kind. “Thank you, sir.” She accepted the bread. “Where did you get this?”

He winked. “I have me ways. Stick with me, and yer passage will be easier.”

She stared at him in awe. “You’re not a crew member. Who are you?”

“Rory O’Connell.” He removed his cap with a flourish. “I’m goin’ to America to start a new life.”

“I’m Erin Coyne,” she replied while chewing.

Many days had passed since she’d eaten anything to stop her stomach from complaining. The small bit of food her parents had managed to scrounge up had to be divided among her six siblings. She’d had little more than a morsel each day since they’d left Ireland. A knot formed in her stomach as she recalled her brothers and sister languishing below deck. She was a horrible sister, but she couldn’t resist easing the terrible gnawing in her stomach.

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Coyne.”

“And you as well, Mr. O’Connell.”

He winked again, produced a flask and handed it to her. Without a thought, she raised it to her lips, gasping in delight after the liquid burned its way down her throat.

“Irish whiskey!”

“Only the finest for such a lovely lass.”

She smiled, warming to the comely man. “What do you plan to do in America?”

“Oh, I have me plans. Once we make port in New York, I have contacts that will set me up just fine.”

“Is that so?” She suspected this man was full of blarney.

“Stick with me, Miss Coyne. I’ll help you get on yer feet in the New World.”

“And why would you be doing that? You don’t even know me?” Her suspicions rose at his familiarity.

“I have a feeling about you, lass.”

****

Erin gasped. How had she remembered that? It had felt so real, as if she had been the Irish emigrant aboard that ship. She’d felt the nauseating seasickness, experienced gnawing hunger. Somehow, she seemed to be remembering Erin O’Connell’s thoughts. The man she’d spoken with must have been Erin O’Connell’s husband. She wondered why she remembered this now.

A shiver ran down her spine. Never before had she experienced anything so mystic. In her own time, she could have visited someone who did past life regressions to shed light on the situation. Did people in this time believe reincarnation possible? Was she seeing through her great-great-great aunt’s eyes, or had she
been
Erin O’Connell?

Left with nothing but questions, she resumed pacing before the tent in the inky darkness.

Chapter Twenty-two

October 1864

Cedar Creek, Virginia

Will paced before the troops assembled in the chilly evening air. The generals planned to attack the Federal soldiers while they slept and rouse them from their tents. The Confederate soldiers had to start marching now, to make Federal camp before dawn. In the darkness, he could barely make out the faces of his men.

“Ow!” a gruff voice bellowed. “What’d you do that for?”

“I can’t see but a few inches in front of me. How was I to know your big foot was there?” a voice whined in defense.

“Quiet in the ranks,” Will ordered. Peering through the mist, he tried to distinguish the source of the disruption. Jake Wagner’s sullen face glared at him as the sergeant lifted his rifle to his shoulder.

I should have known.
His jaw tightened when he pictured Wagner manhandling Erin.

“Is there a problem, Sergeant?” Will asked.

“Yes, sir, there is,” Wagner replied. “How are we supposed to attack the Yankees when we can’t see where we’re goin’?”

A few of the men grumbled assent.

“We are going to take the Yankees by surprise. They won’t expect an attack while it’s still dark.”

“Sounds foolhardy to me,” Wagner griped.

Will spun toward the sergeant. “When I want your opinion, Sergeant, I’ll ask for it. Until then, you do as you’re ordered.”

“Yes, sir.”

While the men settled down to await further orders, Will worried about Wagner. He didn’t trust the man. He’d best keep him in sight to be sure the plan wasn’t thwarted from the start.

And if he found any evidence of espionage, he’d be only too happy to bring him up on charges.

****

Once Montgomery was out of earshot, Charlie Ross muttered, “Reckon you’re goin’ on report again.”

“The hell I am,” Jake said, seething.

“There’s no doubt the captain’s got it in for you,” Charlie continued.

Jake peered through the moonlight at the big man beside him. “Like I don’t know that already.”

“It’s that washer woman, isn’t it? Montgomery’s sweet on her.”

“Shut your—”

“Wagner!” the lieutenant reprimanded.

“Sir?”

“Keep order in the ranks, Sergeant.”

“Yes, sir.” Jake saluted, then sent Charlie a reproachful glance.

“Reckon we’ll surprise the hell out of the Yankees,” the big man said when the lieutenant moved away.

When the captain gave the order to form up, Jake clenched his jaw. He shouldn’t be here. If he had deserted after Erin and Montgomery had returned, he’d be safely up north. Instead, he had to go into battle, again. Another chance for the Yankees to kill or maim him. He wasn’t about to die for these accursed Southerners. He’d never been one of them.

****

Will surveyed the men before him as best he could in the darkness. Many looked bone weary, as if they hadn’t fully awakened, while others were keyed up, anticipating the coming battle. Hopefully, the element of surprise when they attacked the Yankees, would help turn the tide of the war. Since Gettysburg, things had not been going well. They needed this victory to invigorate the men. If things didn’t go their way, he didn’t have much hope the Confederacy could hold out.

Will ordered his company, arranged in three columns, to start the march, lighted only by the moon. He could barely make out the faces of the young privates. His gaze alighted on Kevin Donnelly. Although Jenny had tried her best to hide it, he knew she’d been visiting the Irishman last summer on the pretext of bringing Amanda to see him. He also knew her motive in becoming an army nurse was to be near Donnelly.

The thought of Jenny’s grief if he didn’t bring the young private back to camp, gave him pause.

He gazed at the stars while his men made their way along a pig path, wondering, as he always did before a battle, if he’d ever see the light of day again.

****

Jake was dog-tired as the troops continued to march through the night. Fear kept him from dropping out of rank from sheer exhaustion. Devised by the generals, this foolhardy plan, a desperate attempt by a defeated Confederacy, just couldn’t work. He shouldn’t have stayed. As they made their way to the Yankee camp, his teeth clenched, causing his jaw to ache, and he longed to take out his rage on anyone he could. It didn’t matter what side they were on. And if he survived this battle, Erin O’Connell and Captain Montgomery would be perfect targets.

The fog was thick and cloying just before dawn when the orders came to strike. Bayonets drawn, Jake and the other men roused the sleeping Yankees from their tents.

He briefly fought hand-to-hand with a wide-eyed soldier who tried to wrestle his rifle from him. Plunging the bayonet into the man, he recoiled from the sickening wet thud, then went to the next tent.

Chaos erupted as the half-clad Yankees tried to fend off the Confederates. Federals who weren’t killed or taken prisoner broke and ran, still in their bedclothes.

“Let’s get what those Yanks left behind,” Charlie said.

Rifling through the deserted packs in the tents, they pulled out sugar, coffee beans, and other rations they hadn’t seen in their camp for months.

“Whooee!” Charlie called. “We’re gonna have a feast for our trouble tonight.”

****

When General Early arrived and called a halt to the attack, declaring it a Confederate victory, Will thought about bringing his men to order, but they were fully occupied in pillaging Union stores. The men were hungry. They hadn’t had any sleep. How could he deny them?