Chapter 1
Early August 1865
Greenvale, Pennsylvania
Jackson McGuire sat stiff-backed on the train’s padded bench, his fingers curled around his knees. The war was over, but the part of his mind tasked with self-preservation had yet to be convinced. The steady, rhythmic clatter of wheels on rails, quaint farmhouses, and peaceful countryside rolling past should have been a comfort. Instead, the shadows of war followed him, seeping into the scenery like blood spreading through water.
A long stretch of pasture dotted with grazing cattle filled the window, like some romantic landscape rendered in oils. Then the fences blurred into broken breastworks, the rolling fields morphing into battle-scarred earth littered with bodies—men sprawled where they’d fallen, some lifeless and bloated, othersgasping like fish on dry land. A soldier with his leg gone, sobbing for his mother. Another gurgling and clawing at his throat.
Jackson blinked hard, forcing himself to see what was really there. Ordinary life. The forlorn cries and moans faded as he focused on the quiet murmur of his fellow passengers and the distant call of a conductor. It was all calm and familiar. If he could only figure out a way to keep his thoughts from wandering–
The locomotive’s piercing whistle blared, causing his entire body to flinch. His palms grew damp, and his heart thundered in his chest as the train neared the station and slowed to a stop. “Steady on, soldier,” he muttered to himself as he shouldered his well-worn knapsack and stepped onto the platform.
The scent of coal smoke filled Jackson’s nostrils as he navigated the bustling station, a stark and welcome contrast to the acrid gunpowder that had haunted his dreams for four long years. Thoughts of loved ones he’d soon see further calmed his mind. Caroline Bennet most of all, the woman he’d left behind when he’d enlisted, along with his heart. Her gentle laugh, her smile, the softness of her hand in his—those memories had been his lifeline during the darkest days of the war.
“Jackson,” a male voice called from within the crowd. “Is that you?”
He turned and searched the faces.
One of his childhood friends pushed his way through the crush of bodies, smiling broadly despite resting heavily on his cane as he limped.
A grin shot across Jackson’s face. He wrapped Peter in a backslapping embrace then drew away and gave him a quick perusal. “It’s good to see you.”
“You, too.” Peter said as he shifted his weight back to his cane. “You look well.”
“I’m all right. Glad to be home.” Jackson sidestepped out of the flow of people disembarking the train, suppressing the urge to wince and rub the deep puckered scar on his left thigh. “Who are you waiting for?”
“Mark,” he said of his oldest brother, who’d attained the rank of captain.
Jackson gave a grunt of commiseration. “I’d have been home months ago if I hadn’t made lieutenant. Had to stick around, tying up loose ends.”
A look of shame dulled Peter’s expression. He’d wanted so badly to serve along with his brothers, but he’d been born lame.
Jackson understood the burning drive, a drive men didn’t feel as intensely once they knew the cost. “Thank you for writing to me while I was away,” he said sincerely. “Your letters cheered me up.”
Peter shrugged. “It was nothing.”
Jackson shook his head and locked gazes with his friend. “Letters from home keep a soldier sane. On the worst days, it’severything.” He clapped Peter on the shoulder. “Give your family my regards, but not until I’ve had a chance to make it home to mine. I caught an earlier train to surprise them.”
“Will do.”
“Is The Piper’s Jug still open?”
“It is.”
“Once Mark is settled, let’s all meet for a drink,” Jackson said as they parted.
“I’ll tell him.”
Jackson navigated the crowd, his nerves on edge, and his gaze darting around in a constant search for danger. No matter how many times he reminded himself the war was over, his eyes still strained to catch glimpses of the enemy.
Think of Caroline.
He just needed to see her. Then his mind would believe he was safe.
Jackson distracted himself with thoughts of her and patted the silver hair comb in his pocket, to assure himself it was still there. He’d bought it for her in a small village along the way, though she deserved a token far more valuable.
The tightness in his chest had eased by the time he reached the edge of the city. He set off down the empty road towards the Bennet household, each step bringing him closer to the reunion he'd dreamed of countless times. His parents were anxious for his homecoming, but family could wait.
