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fireplace, so’s the little ones can’t reach it.”
    Rosemarie closed her eyes and nodded.
    “Why don’t you leave that water there, on the dresser, and check on Jace and Amelia while I cool your ma off?” Daniel slid the sheet down, then dipped the cloth into the water. With great care, he bathed her heated body with the water, trying to ignore her full curves.
    “I hate Rebels.” She spoke with her eyes still closed.
    “I know. And for what it’s worth, I hate what they did to you, too.”
    She moved her head and opened her deep blue eyes. “You’re one of them.”
    He shook his head and wrung out the cloth. “No, ma’am. I’m a Confederate soldier, but I’m not one of the men who stole everything from you.”
    The clock ticked in the background for a minute before she spoke. “Not yet, anyway.”
    He smiled at the slight tilt of her lips.
    • • •
    Daniel groaned as he sat up, his muscles sore from a night on the barn floor. He rubbed his eyes and stretched to relieve his cramped muscles. After using a bucket of well water to take care of his morning ablutions, he hurried to the house and crept quietly down the hallway. The children were all asleep, Chandler and Jace snuggled up against each other. He pulled a blanket over Amelia and smoothed back the hair tickling her face.
    Mrs. Wilson’s “enter” greeted him after a light tap on her closed door. She lay on one side, watching him with wary eyes.
    “G’morning, how are you feeling today?”
    “Fine. You can leave now.”
    Daniel laughed softly and approached her bed. “I doubt you’re fine, and I don’t think I should leave just yet.”
    She shifted so she could look him in the eye. “I would think you’d be worried about the army finding you and dragging you back to prison.”
    “I am worried. But you need help.” At her raised eyebrows, he continued, “Mrs. Wilson, you have three young children to care for.”
    “I know that, Reb.”
    “Until you’re on your feet again, I’ll just have to lay low.”
    Her face screwed up in pain as she settled on her back, crossing her hands over her stomach. “Just don’t get comfortable.”
    “Tell you what. I won’t get comfortable, if you stop trying to run me off the place.”
    When she remained staring at the ceiling, he said. “Is it a deal?”
    She sighed and nodded.
    After leaving Rosemarie with a pan of water to wash and change her nightgown, Daniel carried his cup of chicory-laced coffee to the front porch and settled on the top step. He took a sip, grateful it wasn’t plain chicory, which was all he’d had to drink since the war started. Now that he and Rosemarie had declared a truce for as long as she needed his help, things should be a bit more pleasant. He grinned at her sassy attitude, despite being bedridden.
    The sun crept over the hill in the distance, slowly removing any trace of the dusky dawn — his favorite time of day. He inhaled deeply, but the cold winter air of Indiana didn’t soothe him. Before the war had taken over his life, he’d sat on his front porch just about every morning in Virginia, coffee in hand, readying himself for the day.
    He’d thought to spend the rest of his life repeating those days, eventually marrying one of the young ladies from the county, having a passel of kids. The horse farm had been his life, his legacy, in his family since his great grandfather, Sean McCoy, stepped off the ship from Ireland and earned enough money to buy his first few horses.
    Then the war came, and after days of heated arguments over the dinner table, his brother decided to honor his mother’s people, who were from nearby West Virginia, by signing on with the Union Army. Maggie had been proud, Daniel disgusted. What he’d seen as Stephen’s betrayal had caused a break in their lifelong friendship that might never be healed. He took another sip of the warming beverage and ran his fingers through his hair.
    Where was his younger brother now? Had he been killed