Erin's Rebel (23 page)

That night, he seethed with anger. He kept watch on Erin, expecting she’d steal away to meet her contact. He planned to follow her as he’d done with the blond woman, but this time he’d tail her until she led him to the contact. But she never left camp. Had the woman’s death frightened her off? He should’ve gone to the barn to see who showed up. But it was too late now. He’d have to get the name from her.

A candle illuminated her tent. He could make out her form through the canvas, where she sat brushing her hair. His groin tightened as he watched her. That bitch was going to tell him what he wanted to know.

****

Erin brushed her hair, then parted the strands for braiding. Exhausted, she longed to just lay her head down but dreaded waking to a tangled mass in the morning.

“Just leave it loose,” a voice at the entrance of her tent said. “I like it loose.”

She gulped when Jake eased his way inside. “What are you doing here? I was going to bed.”

“We need to have a conversation first.” He pulled out a stool and sat facing her.

“I’m too tired to talk tonight.” Her pulse raced. Could he have killed Rachel? “Come back in the morning.”

“No, ma’am. We’ll talk right now.”

“About what?”

He leaned forward and fingered a strand of her hair. She wanted to recoil but was afraid to move, afraid he’d suspect she feared him.

“I’ve decided,” he said still groping her hair, “that I no longer want to be associated with you.”

She inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe now he’d leave her alone.

“But I need to have the name of your Yankee contact, so that I can deal with him directly.”

Her blood turned to ice. Rachel hadn’t given her a name. And even if she had, she didn’t want to give anything to Jake. There was no telling what he’d do with the information. He might even kill her to keep her from revealing his activities.

“I don’t have the name,” she told him.

He yanked on her hair, pulling her face to within an inch of his. “Don’t lie to me.”

Pain shot through her scalp. His rancid breath gagged her.

“I’m not lying,” she grated out.

He clucked his tongue. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll have to do to you what I did to your little friend.”

She gasped. He
had
killed her.

He rubbed his callused lips over her cheek, and she tried to pull away.

“I don’t have the name. I was supposed to meet him tonight but didn’t go.”

“If you won’t give me the name,” he murmured against her throat, “you
will
give me something else.”

He yanked on her chemise, ripping out the seam, exposing her breast. Enraged, she pushed and kicked at him, knocking him off the stool.

He rose and came at her again. She screamed at the top of her lungs.

“Shut up, you bitch,” he growled.

He hit her face sending bright sparks shooting through her head. She felt herself fall, followed by a flash of excruciating pain when her head hit the edge of the table...then all went black.

Chapter Twenty-five

Jake stared down at Erin, sprawled on the cot. Her jaw, where he’d struck her, had turned an angry red. He roughly grasped her shoulder and shook her.

“Wake up,” he ordered.

She responded with a low moan.

“You’re going to tell me what I want to know.” He lifted her arm, then let it drop. It fell limply, her fingers brushing the ground.

What was he going to do now? Montgomery would skin him alive when he found out. High time he left and went north. Make a new life in Pennsylvania. Since he’d been supplying Erin with information to aid the Yankees, he should be welcomed there. But he might need her to support his claim. He didn’t want to end up in a Yankee prison camp.

Yes. He’d take her along. Once they were safely within the Pennsylvania border, he’d dispose of the bitch. But until then, he needed to keep her alive.

A rustling sound alerted Jake either a person or animal crept outside the tent. He stilled and watched the tent flap draw back. He made out the dark outline of a small, rounded woman and realized it was the cook. He yanked her in. Her startled gasp snuffed out her candle, which fell to the ground at her feet.

The Irish busybody was not going to wreck his plans. He clamped his hand over her mouth before she could shriek. Her heart hammered in her ample bosom as he held her prisoner against his chest.

“Now, now,” he crooned against her ear, “I can’t have you blabbing this all over camp.”

Her wide eyes stared at Erin’s prone form. No doubt she thought he’d killed her. He grinned, enjoying the heady sense of power. If he killed Brigid, he’d ensure she wouldn’t say anything, but any noise could bring others.

The leather cord he’d found in Erin’s trunk would serve his purpose. He pushed the Irish cook to the floor face down, then wrapped a length of cord around her neck. She struggled, gagging, then went slack. When he released the cord, she didn’t appear to be breathing.

He needed to skedaddle out of here before any more witnesses appeared. Using the same cord he used to strangle Brigid, he bound Erin hand and foot, then gagged her with his neckerchief. He threw her limp body over his shoulder, covering her with the quilt from her cot. Under cover of darkness, he made for the brush and trees on the west end of camp. Hopefully, he could stay out of the sight of the pickets. He stashed her among brush while he rounded up a horse, a small supply wagon, and whatever supplies he could scrounge up for the journey.

An hour later, he drove the wagon down a wooded path, with Erin hog-tied in the wagon bed, covered head to toe in blankets. He’d removed the stripes from his brown sack coat, hoping to pass as a civilian. If anyone stopped him, he’d claim to be a grieving relative, taking his brother’s corpse home for burial.

He planned to get as far away from camp as he could before dawn.

****

After a breakfast of oatmeal and a stale slice of bread, Will nursed his lukewarm chicory coffee and contemplated the mess he’d made of his life. This war couldn’t last forever. What would he do when it ended?

With the exception of Amanda, he had nothing at home. The only woman who interested him was Erin, but since her crazy time travel story, he’d avoided her. He didn’t want to get involved with someone who’d lost her mind, or worse yet, lied. Even though the papers he’d found all those months before had never been traced to her, he still had his doubts.

He was better off, no matter what anyone said, to keep his heart to himself. Less pain.

“Will,” a male voice called.

Doc strode in his direction. He was in shirtsleeves and a vest he’d left unbuttoned. The garment flapped open as he walked. A look of grave concern pulled his thin face into a frown.

“I can’t find Erin.” He stopped in front of Will. “She didn’t report for duty. Have you seen her?”

“No, I haven’t. Jenny shares a tent with her. Doesn’t she know where she is?”

“Your sister spent the night in the hospital tent tending to Donnelly. He took a turn for the worse. I’m not sure if he’ll make it.”

While Will digested this, Doc went on. “When she went to wake Erin this morning, she said she wasn’t there, and her quilt was missing.”

“Anything else gone?” Will asked.

“Your sister said, no. Nothing that she could see, but she’s concerned something’s happened to Erin. She found a table upturned.”

“I’m sure Erin’s around here somewhere. If I see her, I’ll be sure to let you know.” But when Doc turned away uneasiness settled over Will.

A young, red-haired soldier approached.

“Corporal,” Will called.

“Yes, sir.”

“Fetch me Sergeant Wagner.”

“Yes, sir.” The corporal scurried away.

Twenty minutes later the corporal returned alone. “Sir, Sergeant Wagner’s not in camp.”

“Did he have a pass to town?”

“No, sir.”

“Did anyone see him leave?”

“No, sir...and something else.”

“Well?” Will’s patience was wearing thin.

“All of his equipment is gone, too.”

He sat up straighter. Erin and Wagner both gone?

“Corporal, I want this camp searched for Sergeant Wagner and Mrs. O’Connell. I want to speak with anyone who’s seen either of them in the past day.”

The corporal’s eyes widened. “Yes, sir.”

The young man raced off. Will contemplated what this meant.

Erin and Wagner had run off together. She’d been lying to him all along. The two were lovers and spies. If he got hold of either of them, he’d be sure they hanged.

****

Will strode into Doc’s tent.

Doc turned from where he stood cleaning his medical instruments. He studied Will’s face. “What the devil is wrong now? Have you found Erin?”

“No, but I can tell you who she left with.”

“What in blazes are you talking about? Erin wouldn’t run off without telling anybody.”

“She would if she were a Yankee spy afraid of being caught.”

Doc shook his head. “She is not a spy. I’d stake my life on it.”

“I do hope you are not serious.” Will’s bile rose. “She and Sergeant Wagner left together.”

“Jake Wagner? How do you know this?”

“Because both of them are missing. Along with all of his gear.”

“That doesn’t mean—”

“He appointed her as laundress.”

Doc sat on the edge of his bunk. “I just don’t believe Erin could have been lying to us all this time.”

“She has. While on furlough at my home she told me an insane story.”

Before Doc could question him further, Sergeant Malone appeared at the tent entrance. The big Irishman saluted, then ushered his wife inside.

“Begging yer pardon, sirs, but me wife urgently needs to speak with you. She’s been attacked, and there’s been an incident.”

Her husband supported Brigid Malone’s weight. He led her to a chair and eased her into it. The Irish cook was deathly pale and her left eye blackened. Trembling, she worried her hands in the skirt of her wrapper.

Doc rose to examine the woman. “Look here, Will,” he said.

Will drew near and looked where Doc pointed. A bluish discoloration wound around her pale throat.

“Who did this, ma’am?” Will asked.

“Sergeant...” she whispered hoarsely, “Wagner.”

Will straightened, glancing at her husband. “Wagner tried to choke you?”

Brigid nodded. Her hazel eyes misted over.