December, 1864...

Hannah Mary Kelsey stood at her window, careful to stay hidden behind the curtain. She stared at the man who'd just crashed to his knees, then over to the left. How he managed to find the one and only sunbeam poking through the clouds overhead, she didn't know, but a sunny, surreal haze surrounded him.

She couldn't tell from this distance if his eyes were open, but she had the creepy sensation that he watched the house. That he somehow knew she was in there. Looking at him.

A dark stain spread across his shoulder and down his right sleeve. The man didn't move.

Neither did Hannah. God help her, what if this man was a Yankee? It didn't matter to her if he was, but it would matter to her neighbors, and she had a rocky enough patch of land to tend as it was, without borrowing more trouble. It seemed to Hannah that Virginia had absorbed an ocean of Confederate and Yankee blood over the past few years. It had to end somewhere.

Her father's hound whined at the door. He wanted out. "Hush, Esau. It's just a wounded soldier."

Esau's tail thumped against the floor, accompanied by a deep growl. The dog sounded hoarse, and little wonder. He'd done nothing but bark all night long. The hair-raising sound kept the intruders away from her place, earning the dog his rightful place in heaven for protecting her from a neighbor determined to make her his wife, willing or not.

Hannah scanned the trees that encircled the small clearing around her home. No movement. No sound. A welcome silence after hours of rude voices raised in shouts, the report of guns, the sound of horses pounding the earth beneath their hooves.

The man hadn't moved in over five minutes. His weapon lay under him at an awkward angle, obviously no use to him if he wanted to move with any speed. Still, Hannah kept her rifle with her when she ventured outside.

"I have a gun, mister. Aimed right at your head."

Nothing.

Hannah took a few more tentative steps. "Can you hear me? Answer me!"

"Who couldn't hear you?" An annoyed whisper.

"Are you lost?" Another step closer.

"I'm on my way home. I have my papers in my pocket."

"You're a Yankee."

"Yes, ma'am."

Hannah knelt behind the soldier. "I have to put my gun down to tend to your wound, but I wouldn't advise you to try anything sneaky. Esau's watching from the doorway."

"You offering aid and comfort to your enemy?"

Hannah snorted. "I offer aid and comfort to a fellow human being. 'Tis the season of our Savior's birth, and I'm a God-fearing Christian woman first, then a Southerner. Can you stand up? It would be best if we weren't seen."

Hannah scooted back when the man rolled onto his back. Using his left arm, he levered himself into a sitting position, then from there, he rose to his feet. His slow movements betrayed the agony he felt. She mirrored his movements, ready to catch him if he fell.

"Lord have mercy, you're a giant."

Bright gray eyes, while hazy with pain, nevertheless twinkled at her. A grimaced half-smile turned up lips surrounded by bronze whiskers grown wild. "You're sprite-sized. I can make it into the house, ma'am, there's no need for you to hover. I've been hit harder than this before."

Esau whined at their approach. His nose twitched in the air. He'd scented the blood; years of training as a hunting dog couldn't be denied.

"Down boy, or you'll be left outside," Hannah told the dog.

"Are you alone here?"

"Yes. My father and brothers went off to fight at the beginning of the war, three years ago. My mother passed away a year and a half ago. We'd just received word that Papa'd been killed at Chancellorsville." Hannah closed the door. "We'll have to remove your clothing. I'll let you have the bed, but not in those filthy clothes." She hoped he wore an undergarment, and that it was cleaner than his uniform.

She knew it was foolish to disclose so much about herself to this Yankee. However, the practical side of her nature asserted itself, for he didn't seem witless enough to lie to. He'd notice she was by herself sooner or later.

"What happened to your brothers?" This slowly paced question came through clenched teeth. He sounded curious, rather than menacing, and in a great deal of pain.

"Daniel died at Gettysburg. 'Twas a true blessing Mama had gone before him. I don't know about Josiah. I haven't heard from him in a very long time. I pray he is alive and well, that he'll return home when this is all over." She helped him shrug out of his woolen jacket, careful to fold the bloody side of the garment away from her.

"You look ready to fall over. There is a chair beside you, mister."

"Captain. Captain Jeffrey Steffend." He eased himself to the chair slowly, his motions jerky. Hannah didn't like how the gray pallor of his face grew worse.

"I'm Hannah Kelsey. Sit back. I'll remove your boots." She knelt at his feet. Nimble fingers plucked at the worn leather lacings at the top of his boots. Moments later, she pulled socks that were more hole than wool from his long feet.

When she looked up at him, fresh blood drew her eyes to his shoulder. "Mercy me. What was I thinking?"

She washed her hands in the basin that stood to the right of the fireplace. Clean cloths sat folded on the bottom shelf of the small wash table. Hannah gathered several, pouring water on about half of them. Armed with the pitcher and rags, she returned to Captain Steffend.

He struggled to remove his shirt. Haggard lines of pain etched his face from his effort. Hannah helped him wordlessly. She sucked her breath in when she saw the hole just below his right shoulder. He'd been shot in the back. It didn't take a very brave soul to ambush another in such a manner. She pressed a dry cloth against the wound to staunch the flow of blood.

She pressed her other hand against his back. A sticky wetness met her touch. "I'm relieved the bullet exited, Captain. That's good news. Can you move to the bed?"

Hannah stood nearby as he struggled to his feet yet again. "The bed is a few steps behind you. Do you need assistance?"

His answer was to lean against her, crutch-like, as he pivoted around. He took two enormous strides and fell onto the bed. Hannah lurched when he abruptly let go of her. She caught herself before she fell over on top of him. It took some time to get him situated so she could attend his injury, but thankfully, he passed out by the time she was ready to clean the wound.

She stoked the fire that crackled in the fireplace, and hung the kettle by its handle from the hook. She pocketed several candles to use to illuminate the Captain's wound while she tended to it.

An hour later, she set his blood-soaked clothes to soak in cold water in the laundry tub. Her face burned as she contemplated the sponge bath she'd have to give her patient. She'd never seen a naked man before, and she would prefer not to see this man that way either. However, he was rank, and the odor grew worse in the warm confines of her home. He needed to rest, first, and a meal. She'd bathe him later.

Esau lay beside the bed, a barrier between his mistress and the stranger. His ears were laid back, and the poor animal wore himself out trying to keep his eyes on both the people. He woofed at the air every now and again, a soft, almost pleading bark that made Hannah wonder what the dog thought he saw.

"Do you believe I should have left him out in the cold to die, Esau?" Hannah paused in her chores to scratch the dog. "Papa would be appalled, I know. A Northerner in his home. Sacrilege. Papa would be scandalized to see me living here in the kitchen. Horrified to know the slaves burned the manor house to the ground before they fled." Her father had owned five slaves, a modest number, more to show that he did fit in with his more prosperous neighbors.

Esau woofed again. Hannah sighed. "'Tis just as well Mama didn't survive to see that either." The more she contemplated the past, the more melancholy she became. Alone but for Esau, her nearest neighbors had refused to take her in, indeed, blamed her for their own slaves running away in the days after word of Paul Kelsey's death made the rounds. Those self-righteous fools had to blame someone, didn't they? Who better than a young woman alone, and therefore, to their way of thinking, unable to defend herself?

Hannah buried her mother the day after they'd learned about her father, then that night watched the lovely plantation house she'd been raised in burn to the ground.

She rather missed the days of being ignored by her neighbors, for that ended when Todd Marshall returned from his brief stint with the Confederate Army. He'd always had his eye on her, even as he made his contempt for her Irish ancestry known. He'd even told her his fine breeding would compensate for the inferiority of her Irish parentage.

Her brother Josiah had beat the daylights out of Todd Marshall, saying the boy needed a lesson in humility--how could any living man with two eyes in his head look at Hannah and see anything but perfection?

Hannah missed Josiah perhaps more than she missed the rest of her family. At least she knew what had happened to Papa and Daniel. She hadn't heard from Josiah since the day he left. She prayed for him on a daily basis, hoping against hope he'd come home and they'd have something that resembled a family again.

A loud knock sounded at the door. Esau raced to the door, barking and growling.

"Miss Hannah. We know you're in there."

Todd Marshall. Her would-be suitor. She had little use for him. For all the Southern refinement that dripped from every word he said, he was as sincere as a politician running for office. And about as trustworthy as the snake in the Garden of Eden.

"What do you want?" She cracked the door open just enough to peek outside. As the afternoon progressed, the air grew cooler. Not an unusual occurrence for December weather.

"Are you well? We've been chasing a damned Yankee. Old Man Watherspoon shot him in the shoulder."

"I'm fine. Thank you for your concern." She tried to close the door, but Todd put his foot in the way.

"You have your window covered."

"I always have that window covered, Todd Marshall. I don't need nosy folks using the road peering into my home. Please move your foot."

"Are you sure you haven't seen anyone? Why won't you let us in?"

Esau growled again. "I'm in the midst of doing a wash. It would be most inappropriate for any of you to come inside and see my things draped around the furniture, drying."

Hannah could see Todd's father standing behind him, as well as two other men she didn't recognize. She didn't like the look of those hard strangers. They wore humorless expressions and peered at her through world-weary eyes.

Todd flashed an insincere smile at her. "You know you could leave all this behind. All you need do is agree to become my wife."

Hannah held her tongue, having no wish to antagonize this volatile young man. His experiences in the Confederate Army had only served to make him more unstable. Only God knew how Todd Marshall would react if she told him she'd rather eat a wasp's nest than marry him. No doubt he'd find her that wasp's nest for her very next meal.

"You could live in comfort," Todd said.

"I couldn't possibly agree to marry you and leave my property, Mr. Marshall. What if Josiah came home and saw all this? He might think me as dead as the rest of our family. No, thank you. I'll stay right here until my brother comes home."

"Foolish woman," Todd snapped.

"A foolish woman filled with faith," she responded, "and old-fashioned values. I'll not marry without his blessing."

"If you're found harboring that Yank, Miss Kelsey, I doubt there will be little I can do to stop the lynching."

Hannah ignored the cold fingers of fear that gripped her, fortified by her belief that caring for and concealing Captain Steffend was the right thing to do. "You'd provide the rope yourself, Todd Marshall, of that I am certain. Good day. I must return to my chores."

She closed the door and lowered the bar to lock it from outside intruders. The foursome tramped around the house, making no effort to disguise the fact that they were searching her property. Let them look. The cabin had one window.

"Blood! Did you see the blood in the dirt over here?"

Several moments passed. Hannah waited for the inevitable pounding on her door. The hot-headed young man didn't disappoint. Hannah counted to three before the hammering started.

"Care to explain the blood?" Todd Marshall shouted.

"Esau killed a feral cat."

"Why don't I believe you?"

"I haven't the foggiest of notions there. Good day, Mr. Marshall." Hannah moved to the window. She could see out well enough without moving the curtain. One of the strangers stared at the house as the other three men retreated. Her heart fluttered. Then, the man tipped his hat and strode after his retreating companions.