who could provide different kinds of assistance.
He had asked for the Mackays’ help.
Mr. Carpenter had not asked for Trudy.
He had asked for assistance from Trudy’s brother-in-law, David Wainwright, wanting an additional writer to help with his coverage. What will he say when he sees that David has not come? she wondered. And worse, that I am here in his place?
David was a top-notch reporter with a nose for sniffing out corruption. He was as committed to justice and truth as Mr. Carpenter, but unlike their employer, he was also a family man. Elizabeth was now expecting her first child and suffering severe sickness. David, the anxious father-to-be, had been hesitant to leave his wife behind. For reasons not entirely concerning Elizabeth’s welfare, Trudy had persuaded David to remain in Baltimore and let her go to Virginia in his stead. Though she wasn’t a reporter, she should still be able to assist Mr. Carpenter in his work. She’d been doing so for quite a while, working for him at the paper.
She had boasted of her nursing and editorial skills as well as her ability to take orders and deal with privations. She had insisted Dr. Mackay and Mr. Carpenter would well protect her. She had assured her brother-in-law that she was the best person for the job. However, it wasn’t until Mr. Collins, the acting editor in Mr. Carpenter’s absence, contracted influenza that David finally agreed to remain in Baltimore. He would look after the newspaper, and all other concerns at home.
“This is best for everyone,” Trudy had told him, but now, admittedly, she was having second thoughts. Her brother-in-law had been a soldier. He knew how to marshal and manage unruly men. Her desire to help the people here was genuine, but her reason for wanting to come on this mission had not been entirely humanitarian. A romantic interest had initially played a part.
Her employer, Mr. Carpenter, was a sizable man with a commanding voice and a confident air. He was brave, honorable and wholly committed to the ideals of justice and truth. Never mind that he walked with a limp, an injury of birth. Never mind he was ten years her senior. She’d been smitten the moment she met him—right up until he had told her in no uncertain terms that he would never marry.
She had learned that the day before he had departed for Virginia, the day it had also become public knowledge that Elizabeth was with child.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” Trudy had said to him when sharing the news.
“Wonderful?” he repeated. “Hardly. Unfortunate, I would say.”
Unfortunate? What kind of response was that? Trudy, though had tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. Mr. Carpenter was a master with words when he put them on paper, not so always when addressing others. “You mean it’s unfortunate that your best sketch artist will now be limited in her newspaper duties?” Elizabeth and David made a formidable team, with him writing engaging stories and her sketching the images that brought them to life.
“No,” he said. “I was referring to the other matter. Only a foolish man would bring a child into this world.”
Trudy had gasped. “You can’t be serious?”
“I assure you, I am completely serious. This world is a dangerous, deadly place, Miss Martin. Apparently you’ve yet to realize that.”
Call her naive, for she knew she had a tendency to lean in that direction, but she’d seen her share of suffering. She told him so. Her father had died when she was but a child. Her brother had gone to war and then was left to rot in a Federal prison. She knew life had its struggles, but not all of it was bad. Families, children were the hope of the future, the promise of a better tomorrow.
Mr. Carpenter, however, thought just the opposite. “I’ll never bring children into this world.”
Pain, disappointment raked her heart, for she had felt all her aspirations concerning him going up in smoke. “Then you’ll never wed?”
“I’m wed to my paper,” he explained. “I’m committed to justice and reform. If you are going to work for me then you had better be likewise committed and put any other ideas you have out of your mind.”
Her sister, Beth, had teased her by insisting that Trudy’s interest in her employer had been written all over her face as clearly as a typeset page—a charge Trudy had denied. Apparently Mr. Carpenter, though, had read that news. Why else would he have spoken so adamantly about remaining an unmarried man?
Her embarrassment in revealing her feelings as well as her disappointment had been overwhelming. She wanted children. She wanted a home. As handsome, as courageous and committed to the truth as Peter Carpenter was, he was not the man for her.
By the time Trudy had learned this news, however, she had already convinced David to stay in Baltimore, and had promised the Mackays that she would assist them in his place. Whatever discomfort she felt concerning Mr. Carpenter and he her, they would simply have to overlook. She would not go back on her word. The Mackays were counting on her but admittedly, in this moment, she wondered how much help she could actually be to them.
The men were drawing closer. “We heard yun’s got food,” one of them shouted. “That true?”
“Aye, ’tis so,” Dr. Mackay called back. “Meet us at the church in Forest Glade at one o’clock and we will assist you there.”
“But we’re hungry now.”
“I realize that,” Dr. Mackay said as the raindrops began to fall, “but we’ve had some difficulty getting here and we must take stock of our supplies.”
Some difficulty indeed, Trudy thought sadly.
An entire wagon load of supplies had gone missing somewhere between Winchester, where they had previously counted a full shipment of goods, and the last rail stop in Mount Jackson. How that had happened Trudy couldn’t say. Her heart was grieved at the thought of what they had lost. Several Ladies Aid societies and Baltimore churches had raised the funds and supplies necessary for this journey. Trudy could only hope that whoever had commandeered their supplies had done so because they were in even more desperate need than the people in front of her.
“How do we know you’ll be there at one o’clock?” A tall man asked. “Don’t trust no Yankees.”
“Actually, we’re from Maryland,” Trudy said. Her announcement did not have the effect she had hoped.
“Even worse,” the man sneered. “Yun’s talk outta both sides of your mouth. You promise help and then don’t deliver.”
At that comment Trudy couldn’t help but take offense. She knew there was suspicion in the South toward the border states like Maryland—slave states that had not seceded from the Union. But she couldn’t help thinking it was unfair, especially when so many Maryland men had left to enlist in the Confederacy. My brother certainly delivered, she wanted to say. A knowing nudge from Emily, though, and a sharp, albeit well-meaning glance from Dr. Mackay kept her quiet. Obviously they thought the less she said right now the better.
Trudy reckoned that was wise advice, for as the group approached she studied the tall man who appeared to be the leader. Although his frock coat was full of holes and his boots had nearly just as many, Trudy recognized he was not to be tangled with. The look in his eyes scared her. She had seen it before in the faces of wounded soldiers at the hospital, the ones who had been through the worst of battle and were unable to forget. The ones who are haunted by hate, she thought.
Emily recognized it, too. “Perhaps it’s a good thing our planned military escorts did not arrive,” she whispered. “Their blue uniforms would only add fuel to the fire.”
Trudy swallowed back the lump in her throat. Had she already done so by announcing they had come from Maryland? The man with the vengeful eyes was studying her intently.
“Gentlemen,” Dr. Mackay said, “I understand your frustration.”
“You don’t know nothin’,” the leader retorted. “You’re a Yankee.