Whispered Music (London Fairy Tales #2)(71)

Never would he be the same.



Available this winter from Astraea Press!





About the Author



Rachel Van Dyken is the USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she’s not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor.

She keeps her home in Idaho with her husband and their snoring Boxer, Sir Winston Churchill. She loves to hear from readers! You can follow her writing journey at www.rachelvandyken.com/.





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Chapter One


My uncle would kill him if he saw him, so I hid him down in the barn on Jessup Mill’s farm. Jessup had had a heart palpitation after receiving word that both his twin boys had fallen in Maryland; he’d died less than a week later. Jessup’s place had been empty ever since and was the only place I could think of to hide him. As I led him down the path connecting my uncle’s place to the barn it started raining and I could barely see the path before me. He faltered in the mud and I began dragging him along.

I dropped him just outside the barn doors. I hadn’t meant to, but he was so heavy and with the rain making holding him difficult, he slid right from my arms. Finally, though, I got him inside the old building; I settled him in the back stall on old hay and covered him with tattered old horse blankets I found stacked in the corner. I rested myself for several moments; then, breathing ragged, I rose and began to tend him.

My hands hesitated on the top buttons of his uniformˉwhether from the gray color so reviled in this section of the Ohio Valley or from the dark stain of blood so dark against the faded material, I didn’t know. I had never seen a man without a shirt before, not even my father or brother before they had died. Yet I knew this soldier was dying and no one else in the town would help him.

So many men lost to this wretched war! When was it going to end? I wasn’t about to let it take another, not when I could possibly stop it. The fighting had already taken my brother and two cousins within hours of each other, and I was determined it would take no other, not while I could do something to stop it.

As I unbuttoned his shirt, he looked at me; his eyes were so black from the fever within him that I nearly cried. I did my best to reassure him, but he didn’t understand my trying to help; he struggled and tried to rise and I pushed him back down onto the straw. He moaned and fell unconscious; I managed to get his shirt off and the blood was horrible! It terrified me for a moment, but I soon realized the injury wasn’t as severe as I’d first thought.

I washed his face and hair with water I had pumped from the well right outside the barn door. Then I forced myself to wash lower and ran the rag over his chest. Thank God the blood was slowing and that it wasn’t a bullet causing the bleeding. I knew I’d never be able to remove a bullet from a man’s bodyˉI just couldn’t. His wound was probably from a blade of some sortˉmaybe a bayonet. I rolled him onto his side, checking to see if the bayonet had pierced his back. It hadn’t.

I washed all the blood away, and then ripped my undergarment into strips for bandages. The material was damp, but clean.

I couldn’t stay too much longerˉmy uncle would be furious if I was late in preparing supper. I felt torn. This man needed me, but the last time my uncle was angry with me, he’d locked me in the root cellar for two daysˉwithout food, and without light. The dark was the worst. I could handle being hungry, but the darkˉit did something to me. I covered the soldier, pulling large bundles of straw around him to keep him warm in the cool night air. I didn’t want to leave him, but knew I must.

****

That night, I waited until my sisters and my uncle’s family had fallen asleep, then I crept out of the house. The small pack I carried contained sewing thread and a needle on the chance that the wound needed sewing, a small bottle of spirits my uncle kept in the root cellar, clean bandages, two small blankets, and some biscuits and cheese. I carried it close to my body as I hurried down the path, thankful the rains had subsided and the clouds rolled away as quickly as they had come in. The moon shone enough that I didn’t have any hardship seeing as I made my way.

I slid the barn door open and entered the stifling darkness. I didn’t want to light a lampˉthe barn was full of tinder just waiting for a sparkˉbut I did. The last thing I wanted was for someone to investigate a fire at Jessup’s place with the soldier and myself still in the barn. I left the lamp as dim as I could get it and I could barely see as I made my way to the end stall. I expected to find him still unconsciousˉhis body needed to rest for proper healing to take place. Halfway to the last stall, a large arm came around my neck and I screamed. My entire body shook, feeling the hardness of his chest pressed against my back. I hadn’t been held that close since the spring I turned sixteen and my father had lifted me onto my horse with instructions to ride as fast and as far as I could, my sisters in tow. I never saw him after that.

“Who are you?” The man’s voice was low, his breath touching my ear. “Where exactly am I?”

“My name is Olivia, and you’re in Indiana.” Fear broke my words. “I found you by the river, brought you here. Don’t you remember?”

“I was in Brandenburg with my men.”

“Why would I lie?” I bandaged your chest, and now I’ve brought you something to eat.