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a little saliva. “Virginia is my family home and has been for over two hundred years.”
    “Where in Virginia?”
    Fortunately, she knew her ancestor served the Second Corps until the end of the war, which meant he had not been captured in Strasburg. She would be safe giving him the answer to his question.
    “Mallory Plantation is about ten miles north of Richmond.”
    “What would you do to save your home from being burned to ground?” Sheridan glared intently.
    For one shocking moment the steady hand of time stilled. Had her presence in the past suddenly put her ancestors at risk? She took a long, steadying breath, then another, suppressing a roar of fear.
    “Whatever I had to do.”
    She knew in her gut she had committed herself to a task she wasn’t going to like. There’d be no return trip home in the near future.
    He put down his pen, leaned back in his chair, and pursed his lips thoughtfully. Charlotte squirmed under the intensity of his glare. Then he sat forward again. “I’ve been ordered to send you to Washington.”
    She blinked and swallowed hard. “Why? You didn’t even know who I was until a minute ago.”
    “Three rebel surgeons are now my prisoners. They’ll spend the remainder of this war in prison. Do you want to join them?”
    “They all turned you down.” There was no humor in her voice, no pride, only a statement of fact.
    He crossed his arms and stared down his long, straight nose, past the scar where she knew a bullet had grazed him. “One of you will go.” There was no gloating in his voice, either, only the steely command of a general. The threat no longer hung in the air. It smacked her in the gut.
    She swallowed hard again before asking, “When do I leave?”

5
    Washington City, 1864
    I n the afternoon, Charlotte and a small company of Federals traveled east on the Ashby Gap Turnpike, leaving Winchester behind. She had no choice but to go with them. Her ancestral home was at stake. If it was destroyed, it might possibly wipe out her existence, and her brother’s as well.
    Jack had to be frantic with worry, and Ken, too. How long had she been gone? An hour? A week? A month? When she went into the fog, she had dropped her haversack. Would Ken find it? What would he think happened to her?
    Fear struck yet again, bringing fresh waves, unending waves. This was not a game. Her life was in danger. What would happen to her when they reached Washington? The bigger question haunted her as well. How was it even possible to go back in time? But the how didn’t matter right now. Neither did the why . Surviving took her total focus.
    The Union Cavalry treated her well enough, considering she was the enemy. Soldiers guarded her, but she wasn’t restrained. For safety reasons, they had also given her a Union jacket to wear. She had cringed when she put on the smelly, bloodstained coat. Being inconspicuous came with a price.
    Riding a horse through the fall chill without any privacy wasn’t easy, either. She had a miniature case in her pocket to freshen her stage makeup, but the wig and beard itched. Fortunately, early in her reenacting days she had perfected the art of taking care of personal needs without drawing attention. It was all part of the gig.
    The Union forces had control of the area, so the threat of being shot out of her saddle was low. She took her cues from the battle-hardened soldiers who formed her escort. When they eased their shoulders and talked about their homes in Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois, she relaxed, too.
    As Washington drew closer, a sick feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. Nothing good could come of this.
    The small party rode down the Columbia Road toward Fort Runyon, one of many earthen forts surrounding Washington. Before they were allowed to pass, their traveling papers were thoroughly inspected.
    Charlotte and her escort then crossed the Potomac River by way of the Long Bridge and entered the city. Mud covered the streets and clung to wagon wheels and