The Fire Within. Lynda Trent
to it, Megan hauled it into the middle of the room and untied the cords that bound it. The mattress unrolled at her feet. The ticking was stained from rain that had blown in Seth’s window years before and it was old, but it was a bed of sorts. Certainly it would be more comfortable than the floor.
Megan got her gown from the hook in the bedroom and took it to the back room. Closing the door, she put on the gown and blew out the lamp before opening the door and sitting on the mattress. Unconscious or not, she didn’t trust the soldier and she kept her skinning knife close beside her. She pulled one of the extra quilts onto the mattress and listened to see if the soldier was stirring. There was no sound. She unpinned her hair and let it tumble around her as she sat there in the gloom. Still listening, she braided it into a thick dark-red plait before lying on the bed.
From the main room, the fireplace sent dancing light over the walls and floors. This was the first time since she had moved here that Megan hadn’t slept alone in the cabin. She wished it were Seth in the next room and not some stranger. Although she tried not to worry about Seth, she couldn’t help but worry at night when she had nothing else to occupy her mind. Was he safe? It was probably too much to hope that he was warm and comfortable. She had seen too many tattered Confederate uniforms to believe Seth’s was in better shape. Living outside was too hard on clothes.
At least she had a smokehouse full of meat. She gazed up at the shadowy rafters above her and planned where to hide it once it was cured.
Chapter Two
Megan knew it was important to keep her prisoner clean if he were to heal without complications. Why this was so, she couldn’t have said, but she had observed from cuts and scrapes she had received herself that cleanliness was important. If it was true for an everyday scrape, it should be doubly true for bullet and sword wounds.
She took a pan of hot water into the bedroom and stared down at the man. She had never in her life seen a naked man. The night she and Seth had made love in the clearing hardly counted, since the moon had given no light to speak of and he had kept his unbuttoned shirt on the entire time. She stepped nearer the soldier. She had to do what was necessary.
Not giving herself time to think, Megan pulled the covers back and sat on the side of the bed. He looked powerful even in repose and he was more handsome than she remembered from the day before. A day’s growth of beard darkened his jaw but did nothing to impair his looks. His hair was black and thick. She remembered his eyes had been a silvery gray.
Megan drew in a deep breath to give herself courage and bent to cut the underlinen down the side seams. Once they were washed, she could resew them, but she wasn’t sure how she would manage to put them back on him. As she pulled the cloth away, she couldn’t help but look at him. He was beautifully made, like the Greek statues she had seen in books. As she looked, he stirred and she hurriedly dipped the cloth in the wash water.
She washed him as well as she could without moving him. Beneath her fingers his skin was warm and supple, his muscles strong. She had also never seen a man with tanned skin all the way to his waist. Her father and the other men in the settlement never removed their shirts outside so only their hands and faces tanned. The brown of his skin for some reason made the man seem even more virile. She found herself imagining him chopping wood without his shirt, his muscles bunching and releasing. The thought made her blush and she tried to put it out of her mind. She wasn’t entirely successful.
Carefully, she removed the soiled bandages and dropped them on the floor with the underlinen. After they were boiled clean, she could use them again. She was glad to see neither of the wounds bled, though the edges were puffed and reddened. Was that normal in a severe wound? There was no one she dared to ask.
After she had cleaned the wounds as well as she could, she put fresh bandages on them, tied them into place and covered him with the quilt. To her surprise, she found her hands shaking. He affected her more than she thought possible. There was an element of danger about him even as he lay unconscious. She wondered what would happen when he finally woke up.
Megan lifted her head. Someone was coming. She could hear them running through the brush and into the yard. Hastily she left the room, pulling the door shut behind her. By the time she reached the main room, Bridget had run into the cabin and stopped in the middle of the room. She was out of breath and the freckles stood out on her pale skin. Her bright red hair was in a tangle all about her face.
Megan glanced at the door to her bedroom. It was closed and the soldier still hadn’t gained consciousness. Nevertheless, she ushered Bridget back onto the porch. “What’s wrong? Is Papa having one of those spells with his heart?”
Her sister shook her head. “It’s Seth!”
“Seth is at the settlement? He’s home?” Megan was a bit surprised that the news didn’t lift her spirits any more than it did. “I’ll get my shawl.”
“No, no, Megan. Listen to me for a minute.” Bridget put her hand on Megan’s arm to stop her. “It’s a letter, not Seth in person. He’s in a Yankee prison.”
Megan’s heart plummeted. “A prison?”
“He was captured last month. The letter only arrived today. He’s not injured or sick. Just scared.”
Megan sat on the ladder-back chair on the porch. A cold wind was blowing but she didn’t feel it. “Seth has always been afraid of being locked up. Remember how he was that time he was locked up in Raintree for getting drunk and breaking the chairs in that saloon? He hates being locked up.” Now that the news was sinking in, she was near tears.
“I think you should come to the house with me. Seth’s parents are there and you can read the letter yourself.”
“Yes. I’ll do that. Let me get my shawl.” She left Bridget on the porch and ran back inside.
In the bedroom she frowned at the soldier lying on her bed. It wasn’t fair that he was being carefully tended and doctored and Seth was in some prison. It made no difference that Seth wasn’t wounded or sick. She had heard about Yankee prisons and they were infamous for brutality and bad living conditions. She tried not to think about that. Throwing her heavy wool shawl about her shoulders, she hurried back to Bridget.
They ran most of the way to the settlement and were out of breath when they entered the house. The old, familiar smells enveloped Megan. Jane’s house always smelled of cooking and the strong lye soap she made every summer. The main room was crowded with the Brennans there. As usual, Aaron Brennan was pacing furiously and Sarah Ann Brennan sat stoically silent.
“Those damn Yankees have my oldest boy,” Aaron was saying in a loud voice. “There’s no telling what they’re doing to him.”
“Now don’t get so riled up,” Samuel Llewellyn said in a calming voice. “We don’t know Seth is being mistreated. He doesn’t say anything about it in his letter.”
“Those Yankees are capable of anything! Anything at all!”
Sarah Ann bent her head and sobbed as silently as possible. Jane went to her and put her arm around the woman. Sarah Ann leaned her head on Jane’s shoulder. Megan knew that the woman would get no comforting from her husband. It was well-known around the settlement that Aaron wasn’t kind to her. Megan also went to the crying woman and touched her other shoulder. Sarah Ann looked up, her small eyes red and swollen already. She patted Megan’s hand with the pudgy fist that held her soggy handkerchief.
“May I see the letter?” Megan asked. Aaron handed it to her with only a glance in her direction. He had always maintained that girls shouldn’t be allowed to read.
Megan managed to interpret Seth’s scrawling hand. He had never learned to spell properly but she could make out the words. “He’s being held just outside Corbin in Kentucky. Where is that?”
“It’s in the southern part, not far from the state line.” Samuel was watching her. “I’m real