“Always,” Janet agreed. She climbed up on the wagon and settled herself beside Henry. Diamond was the last one in. Henry snapped the reins. The wagon lurched forward and Diamond almost felt grateful for the petticoats that provided a slight amount of padding between her backside and the hard seat. It was going to be a long ride.
* * *
Diamond, Janet, and the servants slept under the stars the first night of their journey. During the day, they had encountered no one other than fellow refugees. They fell in with another wagon also traveling to Missouri, deciding to stick together for safety.
Except for the hard ground, Diamond didn’t mind sleeping outside. The temperature dropped once the sun went down, and although it was still muggy, it was cooler outside than in the wagon. She lay on her blanket studying the stars overhead. Occasionally she had entertained herself on stake-outs by gazing at the stars, but the sky looked very different without twenty-first century light pollution. There seemed to be many more stars, but she knew the number hadn’t changed. She was just able to see fainter and more distant stars in this century.
She wondered where Jesse was and if he saw a similar view. She had sent a letter telling him of her move to New Madrid, but he wouldn’t have received it yet. Once she was in Union territory, it would become more difficult for them to correspond. She also would be unable to write for the Gazette. She’d had one story published, a puff piece about the Ladies Association and their work for the cause. It was an assignment she would have sneered at during her days at the news station, but seeing the name, Di Merrell, in print, even for something trivial, had given her an unexpected sense of satisfaction. She’d clipped the article and slipped it into her jewelry box.
She wasn’t sure how her letter-writing campaign was going. Jesse’s letters were polite but short and to the point. Did he find writing them a chore he’d rather avoid or was it just his style? She’d heard nothing since she sent the letter about Amy and Jack. The last letter she had received talked about swimming in the river to escape the heat and trading with the Union soldiers who were doing the same. If she couldn’t draw him in with the written word she wasn’t sure what else she could do. She knew she was pretty. Men found her attractive—until they got to know her. She’d realized long ago that men preferred agreeable to competitive women.
Did it matter? She and Jesse were married. Amy was no longer available. She knew Jesse well enough to know he would uphold his end of the bargain. But the ache in her chest told her it did. She didn’t just want Jesse’s name. She wanted his heart. Somewhere along the line she had surrendered her own and needed his to fill the hole. She’d felt only a mild sense of loss when she decided not to follow her college boyfriend and any affection for Brent had coalesced into hate the moment he snapped her wrist. The few friends she still maintained contact with called her heartless, in jest, but she had always wondered if there was truth to their remarks. She’d thought herself immune to love and the crazy things it made people do. Now she knew she was just as vulnerable as the next girl and the realization chilled her almost more than the threat of bushwhackers.
Exhausted from the journey, she fell asleep, only awakening when a woman’s scream tore across the clearing. For a second, she didn’t remember where she was, but the hard ground beneath her, Janet’s cursing and Sarah’s muffled moans of terror, soon reminded her. The women struggled to their feet and Janet pulled a rifle from her bedroll.
Men swarmed their small camp, ransacking the wagons and grabbing the horses. The fire had burned low, but the hint of dawn colored the sky, lighting the world to dusky gray. One ruffian held the wife of their traveling companion in a firm grip, a gun pointed at her head.
“What is the meaning of this,” Janet yelled. “We’re loyal Southerners on our way home to Missouri.”
“I don’t care if you’re Jefferson Davis himself. We need horses and supplies.”
“I’ve got a gun.” Janet waved her rifle.
“Use it and I’ll splatter her brains.”
“Let us alone. Are you one of Jeffries’ men? My brother fights with you and will be furious if you harm us.”
“They ain’t got much,” one of the other men said, spitting on the ground. “No gold, just some food.”
“Take whatever food you can carry, but we need the horses,” the leader said. He still kept a tight grip on the woman. Her screams had muted to sobs.
“Take what you must, but don’t hurt my wife.” The couple’s two children clung to the farmer, one of them crying, the other apparently too scared to make a noise.
“Well that depends,” the leader said. “Are you loyal Southerners as well?”
“They are,” Diamond said. “Why else would we travel together?” It was a lie. As they cooked their dinners over the fire last night, the farmer had admitted they were fleeing southern Missouri and heading to St. Louis because they were Union sympathizers who no longer felt safe in their home with all the bushwhacking activity. He’d stared disapprovingly at Sarah and Henry. Janet had bristled at his attitude and told him to mind his own business if he wanted the safety numbers gave them.
Not safe enough, apparently. They had set guards for the night, but someone must have fallen asleep, allowing the bushwhackers to get the drop on them.
Janet tapped her gun against her thigh. “You need to leave us at least one horse to pull the wagon.”
“We don’t take orders from anyone. Especially a woman. We aren’t regular army, not that it makes
