Her hat fell to the floor and her hair tumbled down her shoulders. She stuffed her hair under her hat, clamping it to her head, a heartbeat before either guard noticed. Once inside the prisoner’s cell, she listened as the guard locked the door and settled down to his cards. Rachel breathed a sigh of relief. How easy to manipulate the foolish guards, but how could she help an unconscious man escape through a locked door?
She touched him lightly on the shoulder so as not to hurt or frighten him. He did not respond. When she cut him down, he slumped to the floor. She thrust a vial of ammonia beneath his nose. He reared his head.
“I’ve come to free you,” she whispered.
He shook his head, unsteady but conscious. She knelt beside him and rubbed his hands to restore circulation. “There are two guards out there. I’ll create a diversion to get them in here. Are you able to help me incapacitate them?”
He nodded.
Rachel searched the room, grabbed a wooden rod left on the floor and handed it to him. She snatched up a metal baton, stood to one side of the door, motioned the captive behind the door on the other side and started screaming. “Glory be Almighty! Da man is dead. I’m scared of the dead. The devil gonna get me. Please let me out!” Keys jangled; the door swept wide. The two guards rushed in. With lightning speed and using all her strength, Rachel hauled the rod back and whacked the first guard on the head. He fell to the floor like an oak. Almost simultaneously, the prisoner sprang from behind the door and cracked the club down on the second guard and he fell as quickly as the first.
“Take his clothes off and put them on,” Rachel ordered. “Hurry!”
Despite his lacerated back, the man needed no prodding. She helped him remove the guard’s clothes. With great care, she assisted him into the filthy shirt. He winced from the pain. The clothes were a little baggy, but his wide shoulders and tall frame took in the excess. He bobbed and weaved, and she urged him to a chair, then tied and gagged the jailers.
“Get my ring and watch hidden in my trousers.”
She rifled through his pants, thrust the items in her pockets, and then placed the prisoner’s arm around her shoulder and forced him to rise.
“Stay with me.” Every inch of her body protested under the additional weight. She locked the door and tossed the keys in a chamber pot. He staggered with the effort to keep up. Where he got the strength, she did not know, but with certainty, the fortune of securing the damp air of freedom motivated him. “If we encounter anyone, just look official.”
His voice, though quiet, cut through the silence. “Why is it your speech has changed so?”
Damn. She had slipped from her practiced resonance and pitch. No time to think about the slip. Must find a way out. Were they followed? She peered over her shoulder. No one. She exhaled, and then crisscrossed several rooms to a door that led to the street. She hesitated, peeked through the window and reared back. A guard strolled on the walk. She squeezed the prisoner’s hand to warn him. God he was hot. The guard ambled past, and then disappeared around the corner. The prisoner slumped more, his energy ebbing. She scrunched her eyes shut, pushed up with her knees.
“Don’t pass out on me. I can’t carry you.” Rachel shoved the door open and, together, they stepped onto the street. Walking as fast as possible under the circumstances, they passed the charred remains of Crenshaw Woolen Company, then she pulled him into the shadows of the next vacant building and propped him against what was left of the door.
“I’ll make it, and if providence prevails,” he grated out in heavy breaths, “I vow to wrap my fingers around the Saint’s throat and wring the life from him for every traitorous thing he’s done.”
Rachel stiffened. A shout shattered the night’s calm. An alarm had been raised. Out of the darkness came a clatter of hooves and the snorting of horses. A covered funeral wagon with black sides and black plumes pulled up.
“Get in,” she snapped. The wagon’s boards bowed and creaked with the additional weight. The outcry came from the next street over. Feet pounded the boardwalk. Lots of feet. Her blood rushed. Only seconds before they were discovered.
She thrust herself inside as the gaudy wagon took off, and she dropped directly on top of the injured man. Rachel jammed a hand over his mouth, quelling his scream. “Shhh. Quiet,” she hissed. “I’m sorry I caused you pain,” she said, sliding to the side. “Now close your eyes. I have to change my clothes.”
Nervous, undressing in front of a man present, a total stranger, she glanced over her shoulder. In the shadows, she could not see his countenance and assumed he obeyed her request. And she had not time to worry about it if he didn’t. Sitting on the floor with barely enough room to move, Rachel pulled off her shirt and tossed it aside. She loosened the tie that belted her pants then slipped from them.
Moving swiftly, she plucked off her cap and shook her head. Her long hair tumbled down her back. She smoothed back an errant curl, then unwrapped the material that bound her breasts, stripping off everything down to her pantalets and chemise. Noticing the interior, lined in black velvet with enough room to hold a coffin, she shivered.
Rounding the corner, the wagon lurched. She tumbled against him again, bringing her in contact with his lean frame. Her blood pounded. Her face burned. Mercifully, the darkness hid the extent of her embarrassment. Then Rachel felt the hard boldness of his hands as they moved over her breasts. She gasped and scrambled to her feet. In the meager light, she saw his jaw drop.
“Why, you’re a woman.”
She all but suffered a fatal apoplexy. “As a gentleman, I’d assumed you were looking the other way.”
She heard a chuckle from deep inside his chest. “Am I being rescued by a woman, or am I dreaming?”
“You are hallucinating.” She let out a long exasperated breath and made a grab for her hoops, hidden under a blanket on the seat with the rest of her clothing. Her fingers shook, making it impossible to tie them. She began to doubt the wisdom of saving a man she couldn’t yet identify.
“There are certain…attributes…of yours that make my hallucination…delightful.” His voice, though a bare whisper, seemed to fill the very corners of the wagon.
“I should throw you out for such insult. It would be wise to thank your benefactor, or perhaps you are more inclined to entertain your Confederate friends who plan to make short work of you.” Rachel knotted her hoops then flung her dress over her head.
Just then, from north, east and west, the bellows of men grew near. Had the whole city been drawn to the chase?
Sitting, she gritted her teeth with the rocking movement of the wagon and fumbled with the buttons at the back of her dress. To ask him for assistance nettled her. “You are a scoundrel, but pray help me. There’s no time to lose.” She dropped down beside him, presenting her back. “Hurry!” Scarcely breathing, Rachel waited, feeling the stranger’s nearness, yet not daring to move. His hands hovered above her back. She braced herself then felt his hands sweep her hair over her shoulder in what felt like a caress.
“It’s like silk…” he rasped.
