The Fire Within

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Megan’s eyes met his and she found she couldn’t look away.

“I know it’s hard for you to believe, but all Northern men aren’t barbarians, just as all Southern ones aren’t knights in shining armor. I would be more thoughtful of my fiancée than that. Even if it was more or less an arranged marriage.”

She managed to avert her eyes. “Maybe I made a mistake in not letting those soldiers find you that day. Maybe I’m wrong in keeping you here.”

“I’m your pawn in this game of war,” he said with an attempt at lightness. “Remember?”

“I remember. All the same, it may have been a mistake. Maybe I should have let you go on down that road. A Yankee patrol might have found you.”

“Or I might have died of shock or exposure. I left the house thinking there was a regiment in the area. Like you said, I couldn’t hope to walk all the way to Raintree. But I had to try.”

“Did you hurt yourself too badly?” she asked.

He thought for a minute before he answered. “That’s possible. I know I’m hurting more than I was before I tried.”

“You’re a hard man to doctor,” she said.

“I know,” he replied.

“I want you to promise me you won’t try anything like that again.”

“I think I’d be a fool not to promise. I’ve had time to think lately. This is the most comfortable, even considering the pain in my leg, that I’ve been in months, maybe years. I think that’s why I thought I had to try to escape.”

“I don’t understand.” She didn’t dare look at him.

“Let’s just say I’m starting to enjoy the company. Perhaps a bit too much.”

She nodded. She knew exactly what he meant. “I guess I should have let you escape after all.” Suddenly she didn’t dare stay in the room with him and she left quickly. He didn’t call after her.

Sitting by the fire to finish her supper, Megan did quite a bit of soul-searching. She couldn’t start to care for Caleb, not even if he were a Confederate. She was promised to Seth, and in the Hollow, that was as binding as marriage vows. Certainly she could never love him or expect him to love her. But could she stop the emotion that was coming to life inside her? Certainly Seth had never made her feel this way, not even that night in the clearing.

Megan was glad no one could read her thoughts.

Chapter Five

From Caleb’s bed in the back room, he could see the fireplace in the main room. In the days he had been in the cabin, he had read most of The Mysteries of Udolpho, counted all the timbers in the walls, the wide planking flooring, and was starting to count the bricks in the fireplace. Megan fascinated him but she was busy most of the day, keeping the small farm and cabin in shape. Even though it was now winter, there were things to be mended and cloth to be sewn.

As he was counting the bricks for the second time, Megan came into his line of vision. She put down the armload of firewood and straightened as if her back were tired. Then she knelt and put a log on the fire and unhooked an iron spoon to stir the beans she was cooking over the fire.

He didn’t call out to her, nor did she look in his direction. Caleb rarely had the opportunity to observe her without her knowledge. Megan untied her heavy outdoor shawl and hung it on a peg by the chimney and touched her smooth auburn hair to be sure none of it had strayed from its pins. In spite of the work she had been doing, her white blouse was still clean and her skirt not muddy. Megan was one of the neatest women he had ever seen. She was nothing like the stereotypical mountain women some of his fellow soldiers had laughed about around campfires.

Since coming to the cabin, Caleb had discovered other discrepancies in what he had been told. It wasn’t difficult to figure out that the Union soldiers, in order to justify the hardships and dangers they were placing these women in, had to lessen their humanness. He assumed the Confederate soldiers were doing the same thing. For most people, war was only possible if one could convince himself that the enemy was barbaric.

Megan left his range of view but soon returned with a piece of paper. Still not looking in his direction, she sat on the low stool by the fire and began to draw. As her bit of charcoal moved over the paper, she started to sing.