She's a high school history teacher taking place in a Civil War re-enactment near Sharpsburg, Maryland when--
She finds herself in the middle of the bloodiest battle of the war at Antietam when she travels back in time...
She also finds romance...
Will Liberty survive the battle?
Here's the next installment of "The Bride Wore Gray."
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Yankees, here I come.
She ducked low, trying to keep out of harm’s way. Jeez, they played rough. Men intent on scrapping and jostling with
each other, picking up rocks and pretending to throw punches. “Taking some hits,” they called it. She
had nothing but admiration in her heart for the five women soldiers who had
fought in the real battle. They were
true heroines.
You're as strong as they were and
just as smart.
Don't let the kids down now, not
after everything you've taught them.
Teaching was her life. She fueled her passion for helping kids get ahead
in a world determined to keep them back by standing in front of a whiteboard
every day, then counseling them after school.
Sweat dribbled down her cheeks. The day had started out as a field trip
for her class, a once‑in‑a-lifetime journey to Washington D.C.
for kids from the wrong side of the tracks. Now it was matter of personal
pride.
She had to finish what she started or she’d never be able to stand in
front of a classroom of students again.
Fueled by new courage, Liberty
splashed through puddles of water hugging the damp ground. Mud splattered her
face, her hands. She wiped the slime out of her eyes and kept going. The grit
in her mouth tasted awful, but she had no time to spit it out.
Now she knew why her rented uniform came with a
set of earplugs, along with a bottle of aspirin, an elastic bandage, a tube of
antibiotic ointment, and small adhesive bandages hidden in an inside pocket in
the uniform jacket.
She had everything but her lucky coin.
No time to get it now.
She'd left it in her van parked in the lot next
to the three-hundred acre working farm. She’d also locked up her cell phone
since using them was frowned upon except in emergencies.
She must be insane, running
through the storm of shell and musket fire. The field was wet and muddy from
the prolonged rainy season and the cannon fire was louder, more intense. Four,
maybe five hundred cannons shooting
off, one after another without stopping, the battle raging without anybody
raising the white flag.
Damn, where are those earplugs?
Fumbling through her pockets did no good. She couldn’t find them and hold up her pants. She kept going, zigzagging around a
trio of Union soldiers. A rough hand grabbed her by the ankle and jerked her to
a stop.
Crying out, she stumbled and fell. “Let
go of me!”
“Sorry, ma’am,” yelled out the soldier in blue, his eyes wide when he
realized she was a woman. “You sure look like a man in that uniform.”
You’re damn right I can.
With her pants falling down.
Damn.
No wonder she tripped over her long trousers and landed hard on the
bedrock. Yikes, that hurt. Her butt
stung like she’d raked her bottom over a big nail. She turned and saw something
sharp sticking up out of the ground.
Cracked, tinged with gray.
“Bones,” she whispered with reverence. A chill came over her. This was
sacred ground. A relic from the past long buried here. Human bones eroding out of a crack in the bedrock exposed by the
recent, heavy rains.
Wait, there was something else.
Shining under the hot sun overhead. Coppery and bright. Something that wasn't human.
Scrapping away the earth with her fingers, she dug down into the wet
ground and pulled out a piece of metal, rectangular in shape with three letters
imprinted on it: NCR.
A belt buckle.
She wondered what had gone through the soldier’s mind when he fell here
in battle. Was he afraid? In horrible pain? Were his last thoughts of his
beloved? The blood gushing from his wound and spilling onto the ground, his
pulse becoming slower and slower until—
“Watch out, Lieutenant!”
someone yelled.
Rrroar! came the tremendous
sound in her ears as a big, heavy lead ball screamed past her. Liberty hit the ground. Hard. Every fiber in her being on fire.
Oh my God, I could have been killed.
My brains blown out.
She dared to raise her head and saw the huge cannon pointed right at her,
ready to fire again. Her heart beat faster than ever, the terrible realization
of impending doom sending a sudden chill through her. She must be lying down in
a blind spot on otherwise open ground.
They can't see me. I'm gonna die.
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What happens next when Liberty meets up with a Union soldier from 1862 pointing his musket at her and threatening to shoot her? Find out in two weeks...
PS -- I've got some exciting news re: a new project!! More next time...
UPDATE: Okay, here's a hint: What do Sylvia Day and I have in common?
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