Fire by Night (Refiner's Fire Book #2)

Lynn Austin

Description

Two young women in a land shattered by war test the limits of their strengthLovely Julia Hoffman has always enjoyed the carefree life of her well-to-do Philadelphia family. But when she fails to attract the attention of Nathaniel Greene, a fierce abolitionist, she shocks her family by becoming a Union nurse. Will that be enough to win Nathaniel's heart?Phoebe Bigelow, from western Virginia, has always been a misfit, and when her brothers join the Union army, she also enlists--under false pretenses. Soon, both have their eyes opened to the realities of war and suffering. Neither is quite ready for the demands of her new life, but their journeys of sacrifice and love are sure to change them in unexpected ways.

Sujets

• History

Informations

• Publié par: Baker Publishing Group
• Date de parution: 01 novembre 2003
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781441203090
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

© 2003 by Lynn Austin
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan
www . bakerpublishinggroup . com
Ebook edition created 2014
Ebook corrections 10.05.2015
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
ISBN 978-1-4412-0309-0
Scripture quotations identified NIV are from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved.
Cover design by Kirk DouPonce, DogEared Design
To Ken for your encouragement, support, and love.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Part 1
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
Part 2
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
About the Author
Books by Lynn Austin
Back Ads
Back Cover
Part One

By day the Lord went ahead of them in a pillar of cloud to guide them on their way and by night in a pillar of fire to give them light. . . .
Exodus 13:21 NIV
Jesus said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”
John 8:12 NIV
Chapter 1
B ULL R UN , V IRGINIA J ULY 21, 1861
The rippling cry split the air like torn cloth. It shivered down Julia Hoffman’s spine, making the hair on her neck stand on end. “What was that?” she murmured.
“The Rebels,” Uncle Joseph said. “God help us . . . they’re attacking.” He passed his binoculars up to Reverend Nathaniel Greene, seated in the carriage across from Julia. “Here, Reverend. Just look at them all!”
Julia leaned forward, watching the young minister’s face as he pressed the field glasses to his eyes and surveyed the distant battlefield. When Nathaniel spoke, his voice was hushed with awe or maybe fear. “Where did they all come from?”
“What’s happening?” Julia asked. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“Confederate reinforcements have arrived,” Uncle Joseph said. “Looks like thousands of them. Is our line going to hold, Reverend?”
“I can’t tell.” Nathaniel offered the binoculars to Congressman Rhodes, seated beside him. The portly congressman shook his head, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.
“I’ve gotten sweat in my eyes. Burns like the devil. This blasted heat is too much.” He slouched on the seat beside Nathaniel, looking very much like a lump of lard slowly melting in a frying pan. Empty champagne bottles clinked at his feet.
Julia turned to her uncle, who stood in the dusty road beside the carriage wringing his hands. “I thought you told me we were winning this battle,” she said.
“Well . . . we were. But now . . . I don’t know where all these Rebels are coming from.”
The carriage horses suddenly tensed. They lifted their heads in unison and stared in the direction of the fighting. They had grazed sluggishly along the roadside all afternoon while Julia and the others had watched the battle, but now the pair stopped eating. The hair along the big gelding’s spine rose in a ridge, and he whinnied softly, a sound like a shiver.
Julia stood and took the binoculars from Nathaniel. They gave her an excellent view of the two armies fighting in the distance and the battered farmhouse that stood between them. But what she’d thought were stones scattered across the field were clearly fallen soldiers. Dead soldiers. She quickly looked away from them, pointing the glasses toward the horizon. A solid mass of gray marched forward into the clearing, bayonets glinting, crimson flags visible in the wavy heat. Then the binoculars slipped when the carriage lurched, and Julia fell backward against her seat.
“Are you all right?” Uncle Joseph asked her.
“I think so. Here, you can have these glasses back. What’s wrong with the horses? Why are they acting this way?” They had grown increasingly restless, capering nervously in place, rocking the carriage. The Negro coachman pulled hard on the reins to hold them steady.
“Sorry, miss,” he said. “Must be some horses out there been hurt. Making these ones upset.”
Julia had encountered few Negroes during her nineteen years, and most of those had been viewed from a distance—former slaves who’d spoken at the abolition meetings she’d attended with Rever end Greene. There weren’t any Negroes back home in her wealthy Philadelphia neighborhood, and she’d certainly never observed one as closely as this coachman. His skin was very black. Glistening with sweat, it reminded her of black satin.
“Yes . . . I can see some fallen horses,” Uncle Joseph said, looking through the binoculars again. “A cavalry unit is fighting near Sudley Road.”
The carriage rocked as Nathaniel jumped down from it. He was tall and lanky, with the ruddy, freckled look of an overgrown schoolboy in a clerical collar. Julia climbed down to stand beside him. She wished he would take her hand and offer her comfort and reassurance, but he took no notice of her. She watched the steadily mounting activity on the distant battlefield, feeling as uneasy as the horses.
They’d all been here since noon—four hours—and Julia had quickly grown restless. Like the congressman, she hated the sticky Virginia heat that pressed against her like too many sweaty bodies in a crowded bed. Beneath her bonnet, Julia’s golden brown hair had escaped from its hairpins, curling damply around her face. But after pleading to come along in the congressman’s elegant landau to watch the battle, she hadn’t dared complain when she’d grown hot and bored with the distant skirmish. She had tried to engage Nathaniel Greene in conversation—the minister was the real reason she had begged to join the group—but he seemed more interested in talking politics with the men than in conversing with her.
As the hours passed they’d eaten crab cakes and ripe peaches from the picnic basket. The two older men had drunk champagne, cheering with hundreds of other spectators as the Union army slowly pushed the Rebels across the battlefield. “This should teach them a lesson or two,” the congressman had said. “Now we’ll see how eager they are for war.”
“I daresay it will all be over with after today,” Uncle Joseph had predicted.
But now the tide of battle had clearly changed. The men appeared worried and no longer confident as they stood silently beside Julia, watching. The intermittent pop and rattle of gunfire grew to a steady clamor, like a storm of hailstones. The smell of sulfur and gunpowder drifted across the field in a haze of smoke. Julia’s cousin Robert was fighting out there. Uncle Joseph was surely thinking of his son.
“Do you think we should leave, Joseph?” the congressman asked from his seat in the carriage. “Your niece . . .”
“I’m not afraid,” Julia said, even though her legs felt strangely limp and she had to lean against the carriage for support. No one spoke as they watched for another half hour, the flash of exploding rifle fire visible through the smoke. Shouts, screams, and the blare of bugles filled the stagnant air with noise.
The thrill of fear that tingled through Julia was both dreadful and exhilarating. She’d been jealous of her cousin Robert—now Lieutenant Robert Hoffman, a newly commissioned graduate of West Point—as he’d prepared to invade Virginia with the Union Army. She’d pleaded for permission to travel with her aunt and uncle to Washington by train to see him, especially after she’d learned that Reverend Greene would be joining their party. Her cousin and his company of ninety-day volunteers had been certain that the rebellion would end quickly. None of them had wanted to miss out on the excitement—and neither had Julia.
But that excitement now turned to apprehension as she watched the Rebels slowly force the Union army to retreat the entire distance they had advanced. The ground shook with the rumble of booming cannon.
“This is not going well,” her uncle murmured.
“Hold your line!” the congressman shouted to the distant troops. “Don’t let them push you back!” But the blue-coated line gradually splintered and broke apart before the onslaught of gray. Union soldiers scattered as the field dissolved into chaos.
“Dear God, our men are retreating,” Uncle Joseph moaned.
“That’s not an orderly retreat,” Nathaniel said. “It’s a rout.”
Julia clutched her uncle’s sleeve. “They’re coming this way!”
“Stop, confound you! Stop!” the congressman yelled. “Stand and fight!”
Then, above the din of clattering gunfire, an eerie whistling sound sliced the air. A roar like a burst of thunder crashed nearby, followed by another, then another.
“They’re shelling us!” Congressman Rhodes cried out.
Nathaniel gripped Julia’s arm. “Everyone into the carriage. Quickly!” He propelled her up onto the seat, then helped her uncle.
The congressman’s face was pale behind a sheen of sweat. “Driver, let’s go! Make haste!” he said. For a long moment the coachman didn’t move, his eyes wide and very white against his dark face. “Hurry! Move!” the congressman shouted. “What are you waiting for?”
The coachman finally turned around and snapped the reins. The horses, more than eager to run, lurched forward, throwing Julia backward against the seat. The carriage started down the rutted turnpike toward safety. But dozens of other carriages, coupes, and landaus bearing fleeing spectators already mobbed the road, slowing their progress. Julia turned around to watch the battle as the sounds of warfare grew unmistakably louder: exploding cannon, volleys of gunfire, and the eerie, inhuman scream of the Rebel yell.