Fire by Night
* * * F I R E
by N I G H T
Fire by Night
Copyright © 2003
Lynn Austin
Cover design by The DesignWorks Group
Scripture quotations identified NIV are from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION
®
. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.
Printed in the United States of America
ISBN 978-1-55661-443-9
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Austin, Lynn N.
Fire by night / by Lynn Austin.
p.cm. — (Refiner’s fire)
ISBN 1-55661-443-8 (pbk.)
1. United States—History—CivilWar, 1861–1865—Fiction. 2. Passing (Identity)—
Fiction. 3. Female friendship—Fiction. 4. Women soldiers—Fiction. 5. Young women—
Fiction. 6. Nurses—Fiction. I. Title II. Series: Austin, Lynn N. Refiner’s fire.
PS3551. U839F57 2003
813'.54—dc22 2003014248
To Ken
for your encouragement,
support, and love.
Books by
Lynn Austin
FROM BETHANY HOUSE PUBLISHERS
__________________________________
All She Ever Wanted
Eve’s Daughters
Hidden Places
A Proper Pursuit
Though Waters Roar
Until We Reach Home
Wings of Refuge
A Woman’s Place
R
EFINER’S
F
IRE
Candle in the Darkness
Fire by Night
A Light to My Path
C
HRONICLES OF THE
K
INGS
Gods and Kings
Song of Redemption
The Strength of His Hand
Faith of My Fathers
Among the Gods
LYNN AUSTIN is a three-time Christy Award winner for her historical novels
Hidden Places, Candle in the Darkness,
and
Fire by Night
. In addition to writing, Lynn is a popular speaker at conferences, retreats, and various church and school events. She and her husband have three children and make their home in Illinois.
Contents
Bull Run, Virginia July 21, 1861
Western Virginia September 1861
Western Pennsylvania October 1861
Fairfield Hospital February 1862
White House Landing, Virginia June 1862
Mechanicsville, Virginia July 1862
Sharpsburg, Maryland September 1862
Sharpsburg, Maryland September 1862
Fredericksburg, Virginia December 1862
Chancellorsville, Virginia May 1863
Brandy Station, Virginia May 1864
Brandy Station, Virginia May 1864
Cold Harbor, Virginia May 1864
City Point, Virginia July 1864
City Point, Virginia July 1864
Western Pennsylvania October 1864
Bone Hollow, West Virginia July 1865
B
y day the Lord went ahead of them in a pillar of cloud to guide them on their way and by night in a pillar of fire to give them light. …
Exodus 13:21
NIV
J
esus said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”
John 8:12
NIV
Bull Run, Virginia
July 21, 1861
The rippling cry split the air like torn cloth. It shivered down Julia Hoffman’s spine, making the hair on her neck stand on end. “What was that?” she murmured.
“The Rebels,” Uncle Joseph said. “God help us …they’re attacking.” He passed his binoculars up to Reverend Nathaniel Greene, seated in the carriage across from Julia. “Here, Reverend. Just look at them all!”
Julia leaned forward, watching the young minister’s face as he pressed the field glasses to his eyes and surveyed the distant battlefield. When Nathaniel spoke, his voice was hushed with awe or maybe fear. “Where did they all come from?”
“What’s happening?” Julia asked. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“Confederate reinforcements have arrived,” Uncle Joseph said. “Looks like thousands of them. Is our line going to hold, Reverend?”
“I can’t tell.” Nathaniel offered the binoculars to Congressman Rhodes, seated beside him. The portly congressman shook his head, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.
“I’ve gotten sweat in my eyes. Burns like the devil. This blasted heat is too much.” He slouched on the seat beside Nathaniel, looking very much like a lump of lard slowly melting in a frying pan. Empty champagne bottles clinked at his feet.
Julia turned to her uncle, who stood in the dusty road beside the carriage wringing his hands. “I thought you told me we were winning this battle,” she said.
“Well …we were. But now …I don’t know where all these Rebels are coming from.”
The carriage horses suddenly tensed. They lifted their heads in unison and stared in the direction of the fighting. They had grazed sluggishly along the roadside all afternoon while Julia and the others had watched the battle, but now the pair stopped eating. The hair along the big gelding’s spine rose in a ridge, and he whinnied softly, a sound like a shiver.
Julia stood and took the binoculars from Nathaniel. They gave her an excellent view of the two armies fighting in the distance and the battered farmhouse that stood between them. But what she’d thought were stones scattered across the field were clearly fallen soldiers. Dead soldiers. She quickly looked away from them, pointing the glasses toward the horizon. A solid mass of gray marched forward into the clearing, bayonets glinting, crimson flags visible in the wavy heat. Then the binoculars slipped when the carriage lurched, and Julia fell backward against her seat.
“Are you all right?” Uncle Joseph asked her.
“I think so. Here, you can have these glasses back. What’s wrong with the horses? Why are they acting this way?” They had grown increasingly restless, capering nervously in place, rocking the carriage. The Negro coachman pulled hard on the reins to hold them steady.
“Sorry, miss,” he said. “Must be some horses out there been hurt. Making these ones upset.”
Julia had encountered few Negroes during her nineteen years, and most of those had been viewed from a distance—former slaves who’d spoken at the abolition meetings she’d attended with Reverend Greene. There weren’t any Negroes back home in her wealthy Philadelphia neighborhood, and she’d certainly never observed one as closely as this coachman. His skin was very black. Glistening with sweat, it reminded her of black satin.
“Yes …I can see some fallen horses,” Uncle Joseph said, looking through the binoculars again. “A cavalry unit is fighting near Sudley Road.”
The carriage rocked as Nathaniel jumped down from it. He was tall and lanky, with the ruddy, freckled look of an overgrown schoolboy in a clerical collar. Julia climbed down to stand beside him. She wished he would take her hand and offer her comfort and reassurance, but he took no notice of her. She watched the steadily mounting activity on the distant battlefield, feeling as uneasy as the horses.
They’d all been here since noon—four hours—and Julia had quickly grown restless. Like the congressman, she hated the sticky Virginia heat that pressed against her like too many sweaty bodies in a crowded bed. Beneath her bonnet, Julia’s golden brown hair had escaped from its hairpins, curling damply around her face. But after pleading to come along in the congressman’s elegant landau to watch the battle, she hadn’t dared complain when she’d grown hot and bored with the distant skirmish. She had tried to engage Nathaniel Greene in conversation—the minister was the real reason she had begged to join the group—but he seemed more interested in talking politics with the men than in conversing with her.
As the hours passed they’d eaten crab cakes and ripe peaches from the picnic basket. The two older men had drunk champagne, cheering with hundreds of other spectators as the Union army slowly pushed the Rebels across the battlefield. “This should teach them a lesson or two,” the congressman had said. “Now we’ll see how eager they are for war.”
“I daresay it will all be over with after today,” Uncle Joseph had predicted.
But now the tide of battle had clearly changed. The men appeared worried and no longer confident as they stood silently beside Julia, watching. The intermittent pop and rattle of gunfire grew to a steady clamor, like a storm of hailstones. The smell of sulfur and gunpowder drifted across the field in a haze of smoke. Julia’s cousin Robert was fighting out there. Uncle Joseph was surely thinking of his son.
“Do you think we should leave, Joseph?” the congressman asked from his seat in the carriage. “Your niece…”
“I’m not afraid,” Julia said, even though her legs felt strangely limp and she had to lean against the carriage for support. No one spoke as they watched for another half hour, the flash of exploding rifle fire visible through the smoke. Shouts, screams, and the blare of bugles filled the stagnant air with noise.
The thrill of fear that tingled through Julia was both dreadful and exhilarating. She’d been jealous of her cousin Robert—now Lieutenant Robert Hoffman, a newly commissioned graduate of West Point—as he’d prepared to invade Virginia with the Union Army. She’d pleaded for permission to travel with her aunt and uncle to Washington by train to see him, especially after she’d learned that Reverend Greene would be joining their party. Her cousin and his company of ninety-day volunteers had been certain that the rebellion would end quickly. None of them had wanted to miss out on the excitement—and neither had Julia.