When You Love a Scotsman Page 9

  Hoping the women would get themselves together, Abbie ran up the stairs. She hurried into the children’s room and grabbed their coats off the hooks by the door. When she turned to face them, they were all staring at her with wide eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Noah.

  “We have to go to the jail and wait there until the soldiers say it is safe.”

  “The jail? But I haven’t done nothing wrong,” said Noah even as he climbed out of bed.

  “Anything wrong,” she muttered then said, “The jail is a sturdier building with brick walls and barred windows.”

  “The war is coming here?” asked Mary in a small, shaky voice.

  “It definitely appears to be,” Abbie replied as she helped them on with their coats. “One man shot at us and Matthew said to get to the jail while he went to tell the major. He is a soldier so I figure he must know what he is about and has good reason to believe an attack is coming.”

  “Are you coming, too?” asked Noah as he took her hand.

  “Of course I am. Now, we need to move and to get the women moving.”

  Abigail was pleased to see that all the women had their coats on and carried bags they had filled with whatever they felt they needed to hold fast to. She grabbed her sewing basket, sent up a quick prayer that the house would not be burned as she grabbed her rifle and some ammunition, and ushered everyone out the back door. The sound of guns firing followed them as they scurried down behind the houses until they reached the jail. She went around to the front, saw no sign of soldiers, and waved everyone inside the building.

  Shutting and barring the door she finally sat down and wondered idly just when she had been elected to be the caretaker of everyone. The sounds of battle were far from comforting but she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. Panic and the need to rush could be exhausting, she decided. When she felt a small body sit next to her and lean on her, she halfway opened one eye, forced a smile for Noah, and put her arm around him. It was going to be yet another long night, she decided when she heard the boom of cannon fire. Maybe she needed to start sleeping during the day.

  * * *

  Matthew aimed his rifle and took down another soldier. James lay at his side in the brush and did the same. It was not a particularly large attack. More of a skirmish, an annoyance, as if the Rebs sent out the restless soldiers just to get them out of camp. It was possible it was actually some of the marauders who had caused so much trouble. The ones who could not resist the temptation of so many “blue bellies” so near. They often wore Confederate uniforms.

  This time he had a personal reason to fight anyone headed to the town to do harm. Abbie had gotten everyone to the jail. He had seen the light in the window as he had run out with the others to try and stop every one of the attackers at the edge of the town. He was not sure how much he cared about the girl, but he certainly did not want to allow anyone a chance to do her any harm.

  Just as he decided he and James could move he saw several Rebs gallop toward the town off to the right. “Damn, some of the buggers got by us.”

  “Best go and see what they are after,” James said as he crawled on his belly down the slope of the small hill they were on.

  Matthew followed him. At the base of the hill they stood up and ran in a crouch toward the town. They stood up straight as soon as they reached a building. Looking down the street Matthew saw the barrel of a rifle poke out of the jail’s front window. Abbie was alive but it was obvious there was some trouble.

  “The lass is under fire.”

  “Go on, then. Time to be a hero.” James grinned when Matthew glared at him. “Whoever it is, he is on that roof, but I think there may be more men at that end of town. I will watch your back.”

  Knowing there were few better for the job, Matthew began to make his careful way toward the jail. It made him angry to see how many of their own men now littered the street. A quick look told him many of them had been shot from behind as they had run to join the battle. These men wanted to kill and he was not going to allow them to add Abbie or anyone she cared about to their list.

  Chapter Seven

  A shot came through the window, shattering it and scattering the glass all over the floor. The women screamed and huddled against the wall. Abigail checked Noah to make certain he had not been harmed then told him to go back with the other children who were huddled down in one of the cells. She sighed, ran, and grabbed her rifle then loaded it before going back to the window and quickly brushing the glass on the floor aside. She knocked out the rest of the glass with the butt of her rifle. Looking out, she spotted a man in gray on the roof of a building across the street. He was shooting soldiers as they ran toward the battle that was raging at the end of the street, shooting many of them in the back. Abigail aimed carefully and shot him. She was a little surprised when he fell screaming into the street for she had not thought her shot was that accurate.

  She reloaded her gun and when she looked back out a Union soldier was crouched over the Reb, relieving him of all weapons. He then grabbed him, put him over his shoulder, and hurried to the house being used as an infirmary. Abigail wondered what the man was thinking as he gave aid to the enemy, one who had killed a number of his fellow soldiers. She swiftly prayed that both men survived the day.

  “I think I smell smoke,” said Julia and hurried over to crouch down near Abigail.

  “You do. Someone set the Boardman house on fire. Set the fire at the back from what I can glimpse through the windows.”

  Mrs. Beaton suddenly appeared at Abigail’s side, knelt down, and looked out at the burning house. “That is Betsy’s house. I pray her and her children can get out. There she is!”

  Abigail watched as a woman rushed out carrying a baby, three other small children following her. A man came out behind them. Mrs. Beaton stuck her head out the window to call to the woman. Abigail quickly yanked her back inside and looked out in time to see a Reb come around the side of the house and shoot the man who fell onto his stomach and clutched at his leg.

  The soldier stepped closer and Betsy obviously told her children to run because the three bigger ones started racing for the jailhouse. Betsy stood by her husband, baby still clutched in her arms, and appeared to be arguing with the soldier, as she moved her own body between him and her husband. Abigail had to wonder what the woman thought she could do.

  Using the confusion to her advantage, Abigail again took careful aim. Betsy clearly decided arguing was getting her nowhere and had begun to hurl insults if the look on the man’s face was anything to judge by. The soldier abruptly aimed his weapon at her and the angry look on his face told Abbie the woman had only succeeded in making sure she died next to her husband. Abigail shifted her aim a bit and fired, hitting the soldier in the arm he was using to aim his gun. All the ladies in the room stared at her as she reloaded.

  Mrs. Beaton recovered first and yelled at Betsy to get moving. Still somehow holding on to the babe, the woman put her husband’s arm around her shoulders, then put her arm around his waist and they started moving toward the jail quickly if awkwardly. They presented a very easy target and Abbie tried to keep a close watch on every possible way an enemy could come at them. Then there was another shot fired. Abbie cursed and looked around even harder to see who she had missed spotting. Betsy’s husband was hit in the arm. It caused him to stumble into his wife, nearly sending them both to the ground.

  Abigail cursed because now the pair was nearly helpless. Finally she saw there was another soldier in gray in the alley next to the burning house. He was in shadow but she took aim and hoped for a good shot, good enough to put the man down long enough for Betsy to get inside the jail with her wounded husband.

  Taking another steadying deep breath, she fired. The man should have fallen backward if she had hit him but, instead, he fell facedown. Abigail was puzzled by that until a man in a blue uniform stepped out of the same alley and ran toward Betsy and her husband. When he stopped to put his arm around the man, she cou
ld see it was Matthew. She was wondering where he had come from when she realized there were far more important things to worry about. Matthew was now exposed to anyone who was still able to shoot.

  “Mrs. Beaton, you should let them in and make sure the children are not standing right in front of the door.”

  The woman glared at her but did what she had asked. Abigail shook her head and returned to watching the street to make sure no one attacked Matthew while he helped Betsy save her husband. Mrs. Beaton might have once been rich and pampered, but by the time this war was finally over, Abigail had to wonder if the woman would still be. When she heard the sound of Matthew’s voice just outside the room, she relaxed.

  “Someone get a couple of blankets to put on the floor,” she called out, and heard the women hurry to obey what even she recognized had sounded like an order. “And try to stay out of the line of the windows.” She did not move from her post until Matthew crouched by her side.

  “I can watch now,” he said. “The man needs help.”

  Abbie set her rifle down and looked toward the man he had helped inside. The women had not only brought blankets, they had found a cot in one of the cells to spread them on. It was going to make it easier to tend his wounds. His wife knelt beside him after handing her baby over to Maude, gripping the hand of his unwounded arm and whispering what were probably encouraging words. Abbie quickly studied the man’s wounds and decided if she did not have to dig around for a bullet, they would not prove to be too much trouble for her. Even better the wound on his leg was not so high up that there would be any difficulty in maintaining his modesty. Bracing herself for what was to come she took a closer look that told her both bullets had passed through and she breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I need his shirt off,” she said and the wife quickly complied. “Julia? My sewing basket, please, and some whiskey if there is any to be found.”

  A quick look told her the bullet had not only gone through the arm but appeared to have missed anything vital. “I hope you have no sentimental attachment to these pants,” she said as she knelt by the cot and took scissors from her basket to cut off the pant leg above the knee then cut the long johns he wore beneath them.

  “You are a very lucky man, sir,” she said when she saw that the bullet had passed right through his leg as well.

  “Lucky? I got shot! Twice!” he said, his voice hoarse with pain.

  “True, but both bullets had the courtesy to leave cleanly. I don’t have to go digging around for them, sir.”

  “Oh. Guess that does sound lucky. Name is Harvey, Harvey Boardman.”

  “This is going to sting, Harvey,” she said as she held up a bottle of whiskey and idly wondered if someone had stolen most of the sheriff’s supply, “but I need to make certain the wound is clean.” She got ready to pour some whiskey on the wound in his arm. “Take deep breaths and let them out slowly.”

  “That helps?”

  “Sometimes. Ready?”

  As she washed out his wounds, he breathed as she had suggested but still choked on a scream. Abigail was pleased when she was done and dabbed his wounds dry. She then wiped the blanket as clean as she could. She grabbed her needle and began to stitch up the wound on his leg. First the entrance wound and then the exit one. After she tied it off she looked at her work then stared at the needle and the tiny piece of thread left.

  “Oh, dear.”

  “What?” demanded Betsy. “What is wrong?”

  “Oh, nothing with him or the wound.” Abigail sighed. “I just happened to notice that I forgot to change the thread from my embroidery work to a nice black thread.” She looked at the man and grinned. “I fear I just closed the wound in your leg with yellow thread. Bright yellow.”

  Betsy laughed and her husband smiled, although the expression quickly turned to a grimace when he inadvertently shifted his wounded arm. Abigail hurried to rethread her needle with black thread and went to work stitching up his arm wound.

  When she was done, she told his wife to clean the sweat from his face as she bandaged up his wounds. By the time Betsy was done and looked up, the three children had moved closer to stand by their mother. Their father tried gamely to smile at them and Abigail stood up.

  “He should rest now.” She looked around for Mrs. Beaton but could not find the woman so she just placed a blanket over the man. “It looks as if you will be staying here for a while.”

  As she left him to his family, Abigail cleaned up what she could then went back to the window to sit near Matthew. “Any trouble out there?”

  “Nay. Think this skirmish is as good as done. We even blew their cannon up.”

  “One less thing to worry about.”

  He leaned over and brushed a kiss over her mouth, smiling when she blushed and looked around to see who had been watching. No one had been hurt aside from Betsy’s husband so she began to relax. Julia was asleep in one of the cells and the children were watching Betsy’s children after drawing them into the cell they were sharing. Matthew was astonished at how calm everyone seemed to be.

  “Soon I will have to go and see how James is doing. He was watching my back,” he said, drawing Abbie’s attention his way again.

  “I pray nothing happened to him. Do you think this attack will continue?”

  “Nay. As I said, I am fair certain it is almost done. Some of the Rebs in a camp we were watching clearly decided they could not tolerate us so near without doing something. I was even thinking it might not be the men from that camp but some of the marauders who plague these hills.”

  “But they wore gray.”

  “Many of them do. They probably are considered part of the Rebel army but they usually do just as they want and are far more brutal and uncaring about what one calls the innocents.”

  “Well, one of them is in the infirmary so you may get an answer to that.”

  “Since these men got inside the town limits I believe I should go check on the doctor.”

  “It might be wise. Even if the doctor remains blind to the uniform someone wears, I suspect such men as you think these are would not care about that. I glanced toward the infirmary when I was coming here and saw no sign of trouble, but it is only lightly guarded.”

  “Stay here until I send word that it is safe to go back to the house.”

  “I will.”

  Matthew kissed her again and chuckled at her blush. He then stood up and after making sure the back door was secured well, went out and headed to the infirmary. He found Boyd standing and holding a basin of water for the doctor. Then he glanced at the man the doctor was working on and tensed. It was young Robert whose new wife was resting peacefully in a jail cell. Edging closer he sighed because the man had several wounds and, by the looks of the rags tossed to the floor, had already lost a lot of blood.

  “It is bad,” Boyd said quietly. “The doctor can’t seem to stop the bleeding from the gut wound.”

  “Think I should get Julia?”

  “If it is safe to do so,” said the doctor as he stood up, “then get her. The man doesn’t have much time,” he added softly. “He was posted in a tree and was shot out of it. The landing was hard and there is a lot of internal bleeding I can’t seem to ease.”

  “Aw, hell. I can get her.” Matthew left and his steps slowed rapidly as he neared the jail, but he took a deep breath to steady himself and rapped on the door.

  Abbie opened it and frowned up at him. “Is it clear for us to leave?”

  “I think so but that is not why I am here. Where is Julia?” He watched Abbie’s eyes widen and knew she had just realized why he was back so soon.

  “Robert,” she whispered.

  “I fear so. Can you get her?”

  Abbie went and roused Julia then led her back to Matthew. A soft moan escaped the woman as Matthew told her about Robert and how he would want to see her. When Julia grabbed her hand, Abbie was startled.

  “Come with me,” Julia said, a note of pleading in her voice.

  Abbie nodd
ed and with Matthew’s agreement told the others to go back to the Beaton house. Several of the women moved to help carry the cot with Harvey Boardman on it. Abbie walked with Julia to the infirmary and suddenly Julia stopped. The woman was so pale, Abbie feared she would pass out on the street. Matthew went inside and reappeared at the door a few moments later. Abbie suspected they had tidied up the scene as much as they could.

  “Come on in, Julia. Robert will want to see you. He has been calling your name,” Matthew added softly.

  It was enough of an inducement and Julia followed him over to Robert’s cot. Julia let go of Abbie and rushed to the man’s side, kneeling down so she could whisper in his ear and kiss his pale cheek. Seeing Boyd standing there, Abbie moved next to him. A sad-eyed Boyd met her questioning look and shook his head. He did not have to say a word; the look on his face said it all. Abbie fought back the urge to cry because she knew Julia needed her to be strong.

  “Ah, Julia, we would have been good and our child would have been happy,” Robert said in a very weak voice.

  “It will be. You just have to hang on.” Julia clung to his hand while tears streamed down her face.

  “Want to. Can’t. All broken inside. Take the babe to my family. They will help you.”

  “No, Robbie, no. You will come with me.”

  There was a high note of burgeoning hysteria in Julia’s voice and Abbie stepped closer. She noticed the doctor did as well. Julia just wept and held Robert’s hand to her wet cheek. It was heartbreaking but Abbie knew the girl would need strong people to be at her side once Robert slipped away. And he would, Abbie thought sadly, because he already had the smell of death on him.

  “Let my kin know when the babe comes. Promise me. Let them know,” Robert said with a sudden show of strength.

  “I will. I promise. But you can help me do it.”

  “No, darlin’, I don’t want nuthin’ as much as I want to stay with you, but I can’t. My luck has run out.”