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I didn t struggle to save your leg so you could go out and get it
reinfected. She nodded toward the crutches Bren had tried to reach.
They were fashioned simply, each a long pole with a curved piece of
wood attached to the top. Tomorrow, we ll find out whether you can
manage those crutches and get up and around a bit. Until then, you
stay right in that bed.
Yes, ma am. So she doesn t like losing an argument, Bren
thought. But I do owe her some consideration. She saluted in mock
obedience, granting Faith the opportunity to save face. But may I at
least use the slop jar again when necessary? I found it under the bed a
little earlier.
Faith s cheeks turned pink. Of course, you may. I ll see to
emptying it for you. She stood up. Benjamin said you invited him
to visit you after you finished eating.
Yes, I did. He s a fine boy. You should be proud of him.
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THE WAR BETWEEN THE HEARTS
Thank you. And thank you for showing him such kindness.
He s very excited about your being here. I ll send him right in. Do
you need anything?
Not really, but I have a question. Isn t the Sibyl a journal for
women?
Yes. Faith bent down and busied herself with removing the
covered slop jar from beneath the bed. Are you familiar with it?
Indeed, I am. Bren scratched her head above her ear. I
believe they support a woman s right to be whatever she pleases.
Even to having equality with men.
Look. Faith stood up with the jar in her hands and starch in her
words. You won your point. Just don t go getting overbearing about
it.
A tiny smile appeared on Bren s face. Yes, ma am, she said
again, drawing the words out in exaggeration.
With a flounce, Faith departed, closing the door behind her.
The smile broadened as Bren let relief wash over her. So she
reads the Sibyl. I like a woman with some fire in her veins. This is
becoming an interesting recuperation.
She was still smiling when a knock sounded. Come in, she
called, and Benjamin entered with a cloth bag in his hand. What s
that you have, Benjamin?
The boy came over to the bed and opened the bag. He grabbed
its edges, pulled them apart, and held the bag out for Bren to see
inside. My pa gave me these. They re soldiers.
Bren pushed down the top edge of the bag with her finger and
looked in. She slapped the mattress beside her. Good! Dump them
on the bed, and let s take a closer look at them.
Benjamin turned the bag over and about two dozen painted lead
figures tumbled out into a pile. Dressed in uniforms of the
Revolutionary War, the figures in blue represented the patriots, and
those in red, the British. Some figures wielded swords, some aimed
muskets, and some were on horseback. Two drummer boys, two
soldiers carrying their respective flags, and four cannons mounted on
caissons rounded out the assemblage.
They sorted out the two colors, putting a group on one side of
Bren and the other on the opposite side. When they finished,
Benjamin pointed to the red-clad figures.
I call the red ones our soldiers, and the blue are the Yankees.
That sounds good to me. Do you want to fight against each
other, or both be on the same side?
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NANN DUNNE
Dark brown eyes widened. Mama always fights against me.
Are we allowed to both fight on the same side?
Hmm. Bren pressed her lips together and nodded. I don t see
why not. We re both fighting for the Confederacy, aren t we?
Yes, sir. A broad smile lit the boy s face. You and me on the
same side. I like that.
How old are you, Benjamin?
I m eight, sir.
Eight? I thought you were at least ten. You re tall, like your
mother. Bren picked up a horse-mounted figure dressed in a red
uniform and bounced the rider along the mattress. For now, you re
eighteen and we re going to capture us some bluebellies. Get your
horse, soldier, and let s scout them out.
Yes, sir. Benjamin saluted, grabbed one of the mounted
soldiers and followed along behind Bren. She brought her figure to a
halt and waited for the boy to catch up, and they resumed their
mission, side by side.
A while later, Faith peeked in the doorway, smiled at the two
dark-haired soldiers engrossed in their activity, and returned to her
tasks, still wishing Bren weren t going back to the war.
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THE WAR BETWEEN THE HEARTS
CHAPTER SIX
he following morning, Bren enjoyed a breakfast of hotcakes
T drenched in butter and syrup and finished it with a cup of
tea. Faith came into the bedroom, set the breakfast tray aside, and
handed Bren the folded trousers from the bureau.
Ready to get up out of bed? she asked. She gathered the
crutches from their corner and set them against the near wall.
Bren s face lit up at the idea. Yes, I am. With Faith s help, she
dressed, took the offered crutch, and managed to stand. Faith steadied
her while passing her the other crutch, and Bren fit the armrests
against her armpits. These feel like they were made for a shorter
person, she said as their height forced her to slump at an
uncomfortable angle.
This is a pair Doc Schafer keeps around for anyone s use.
Faith let go of her and stayed alongside as Bren tried out a few steps.
I would suggest you use them sparingly, or your back will complain
about it.
Bren moved to and fro across the room until she caught on to the
rhythm of walking with the crutches. Speaking of backs, I m truly
happy to be able to get off of mine for a change. Lying abed for so
long has sapped my strength. Indeed, she already felt drops of
perspiration sprouting along her hairline.
Faith beckoned with one hand. Let me show you the parlor and
the kitchen. You might want to rest a bit before walking any farther
than that. Gaining confidence, Bren followed her through the
doorway into the next room.
About thirty feet long and fifteen feet wide, the parlor s random-
planked floor ran the full width of the house. A green sofa and two
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NANN DUNNE
brown, stuffed chairs formed a sitting area in front of a stone
fireplace. Above the fireplace, a mantel held a daguerreotype of a
Confederate soldier. Bren recognized the origin of Benjamin s dark
complexion and brown eyes, even before Faith followed her gaze and
remarked, That s my late husband, Benjamin s father. On the wall
above the mantel, a musket and a saber rested in the hooks of a rack.
The far end of the room contained an office area, complete with desk,
chair, and wooden filing cabinets. A framed piece of corkboard on the
wall behind the desk served as a bulletin board and contained odd-
sized pieces of paper as well as a child s drawings. Halfway along the
room s wall, a very steep staircase, little more than an expanded
ladder, led to a door set into the ceiling. Again, Faith followed Bren s
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