Chapter Two

      The pressure of the knife or whatever blade he held against my neck made me give up any ideas of resistance. Roughly he pulled me out of the shrub. When his hand grasped my breast, he stopped suddenly.

      “You’re a woman!” He spun me around to face him.

      The light had completely faded from the day. The gray mist of rain and gathering darkness concealed most of his features, but I could see that he was dressed in the uniform of a Confederate officer. The weapon he’d used to pin me to the ground was his sword. For a second I was so taken aback, I couldn’t think of anything to say.

      Once I found my tongue, I had no lack of questions. “What are you doing at Ravenwood? Who are you? Where did you come from? Why are you dressed in those clothes?”

      He didn’t answer, but a slight grin played across his face. “And I could ask you the same,” he said in a drawl.

      The hand that had pawed me suddenly lifted me by the elbow with a gentle support. “The lighting was poor. There are stragglers from both armies on these grounds, and I’ve developed a fondness for the residents of Ravenwood. Whenever I have some spare time, I ride through here to patrol.”

      I had been frightened before, but it was nothing compared to what I experienced now. “Wha-what armies?” His dress. His speech. It was as if I’d stepped into a nightmare.

      “What armies?” He laughed. “The Confederate and the enemy, of course. What did you think, the Trojans and the Greeks?”

      “Oh, Lord.” The words escaped me on a sigh. I was too afraid to scream. It occurred to me that the man and horse standing before me were figments of my deteriorating imagination. If I could conjure up Frank, why not a Confederate soldier and horse? I decided to play for time and test him. “What year is this?”

      “Eighteen sixty-three. April. Have you lost your senses tumbling around in the bushes?”

      His hand was still beneath my elbow, and for good reason. My knees threatened to give. In an instant he had his hands about my waist, offering support. “You’re rather tall for a woman and strangely dressed. I thought you were a boy.”

      “I don’t feel very well,” I answered as I stumbled forward. Thank goodness he was on the tall side, for a man, or I might have crushed him on the spot. In a moment I had my spine re-engaged and I stood on my own. I had gone to sleep in 1993 and awakened…in the midst of the Civil War? It was not possible. It was…insane. But the man beside me was flesh and blood. A very solid man with firm muscle. The horse smelled of horse. Even the delicate scent of the paper-whites was all around me. If this was a dream, or a nightmare, it was Technicolor. But after all, hadn’t I come to Ravenwood in search of a ghost?

      For the first time I noticed the silence. The night was hushed, as if it waited for a burst of fire or a volley of cannon. “Where is the Union army? Why aren’t they shooting?”

      “Several battalions have dug in at the low ground not two miles from here. We’re expecting reinforcements any day.”

      He spoke with such matter-of-factness, and absolutely no fear. I didn’t completely accept what might have happened to me, but I felt a sudden rush of pity for this man. He had no concept of the future, of the futility of the battle about to be fought. How could I tell him that those reinforcements would never come? That the siege of Vicksburg was one of the most torturous events of a long and bloody war. That his army, his men, were doomed to starvation and death, along with many of the residents of the town. I was overwhelmed with what I knew and could not tell.

      “You’re looking ill. Let me walk you back to Ravenwood. I’m sure that we can find something to bolster your spirits.”

      I hesitated. What would I find at the plantation? Would Canna Quinn be mourning the death of his daughter, Mary? What would he make of my sudden and unexpected appearance? What had happened to the mini van I’d rented? How could I wake myself from this nightmare?

      “My name is Nathan Cates, lieutenant colonel in the Seventh Confederate Cavalry.”

      How should I respond? I decided on a simple name. “Emma Devlin.”

      He hesitated, as if he waited for more. “Are you a relative of the Quinns?”

      “No. A guest.”

      Nathan captured the reins of his horse and we started back to the house. Several minutes passed in silence. I sensed that the man beside me struggled to say something. I was completely disoriented and unable to decide what I believed. Silence was my only choice.

      “Miss Devlin, I’ve taken a vow this summer, and I’m about to break it. I think this has gone far enough.”

      He’d lost me completely, but it sounded sinister. “What vow? What are you talking about?”

      “I took this…job, and it’s a matter of honor with me to fulfill my obligations. But I can see that I’m distressing you, so I think I’d better tell you the truth.”

      With his words, it was as if lightning had zapped behind my eyes. The costume! The strange cadence of his speech! The courtliness of his manner! “You’re part of the Civil War reenactment, aren’t you? You’re paid to act out the role of cavalry colonel and it’s against your contract to break character.” I’d read all about it. With the first flush of excitement also came a bitter aftertaste of disappointment. I had wanted to meet a ghost. I’d been more than ready to believe it. As unreasonable as it was, I also felt anger.

      “What are you doing on the grounds?” I asked.

      “I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said.

      “These are private grounds. I think you should take your horse and leave.”

      “Miss Devlin, please allow me to walk you back to the house. The grounds are supposed to be private, but they aren’t secure. I am sorry that I’ve upset you. You see, I didn’t expect to find anyone here, either.”

      He sounded genuinely contrite, and a bit of my anger passed. “You frightened me, but only a little. I didn’t know if I’d woken up in the Twilight Zone or if I was in the company of some raving lunatic who was living in the past.” I wasn’t about to confess that I’d hoped he was a ghost.

      “By your accent, I’d say you’re from the South. Surely you know about the Vicksburg reenactment. It’s part of the history of the town. It’s one of the biggest tourist attractions. And reenactors are required to stay in character.”

      “I