Stowaway in Time

her arm around his waist and struck out heading east. She should probably be more careful about what she said, but she didn’t think he would remember much of their conversation. Besides, she couldn’t bear to tell him he was fighting a lost cause.

Five


Chapter 5
Jesse proved a harsher taskmaster than Diamond’s sophomore gym teacher, who had almost kicked her adolescent butt into shape. Despite burning with fever and seemingly oblivious to most of what was going on around them, he insisted they keep moving forward, one painful step after another.
Diamond hoped they were going the right way. She’d never attempted to navigate by the sun before. But only when the sun began to dip below the horizon did Jesse allow them to stop.
“We’ll set up camp here,” he said, sliding his gear off his back. “I’ve got a tent and a blanket. I know it isn’t proper, but I promise to behave like a perfect gentleman. You need have no concern for your virtue.”
He’s blushing! Diamond watched in amazement as the feverish color in his cheeks deepened. Here they were, lost in the Tennessee wilderness, hunted by Union soldiers, and low on supplies, and he worried about her virtue. Would he worry if he knew that by nineteenth-century standards she was already ruined? “I trust you.”
He smiled. “Not sure I’d be much of a threat, anyway.”
“You said it, not me. I didn’t want to damage your ego.”
“Not sure what an ego is, but I don’t think I can survive much more damage right now.”
Another slip of the tongue. Freud had not yet invented his theory of the Id, Ego, and Superego. She wasn’t even sure if he’d been born yet. And she wasn’t a psychologist. She didn’t want to explain a complex psychological theory to a man on the verge of collapse. “I was referring to your masculine pride.”
“Already dented, I’m afraid. You’ve done so much already, but I’ll need your help to put up the tent.”
“Sure, as long as you can talk me through it.”
He pulled a folded piece of canvas from his pack. “We’ll need a ridge pole and two fork-shaped branches to hold it. Think you can find those?”
Diamond stared at the wad of off-white material. “It doesn’t come with poles?”
“I had to leave them behind when we fled from New Madrid. I’m lucky I got away with most of my gear. Some of my men escaped with nothing more than the clothes on their backs.”
So Jesse had been at New Madrid when it fell in addition to Island #10. He wasn’t having the best year, but then neither was she. She’d tracked down the story of a lifetime, but had no way to tell it. “I’ll see what I can find.” She dug around in her backpack for her multi-tool and slipped it in her pocket. Jesse sat with his eyes closed, leaning on his pack. With one last glance at his drawn, but attractive, features, she headed into the woods.
The area was greening up. Small buds dotted the trees, and the dogwoods were blooming, filling the air with their sweet scent. If she hadn’t been ravenous, dead tired, and sick with worry, Diamond might have enjoyed the pretty, white flowers and the peace of the woods. The battle sounds had faded. Either the fighting was over or they were too far away to hear it. Despite Jesse’s fears, she wasn’t concerned about the Union Army. The Yankees had more important things to worry about than one wounded Confederate soldier and a non-partisan civilian.
But every hour that passed allowed Bob and Anne to get farther away. How was she ever going to find them in a time without the Internet, TV or even radio? No one had social security numbers here. The government couldn’t track everyone, though she supposed they did their best. Later in the war, there would be a draft, on both sides, so they must keep track of people somehow. She wanted to be long gone by the time the draft went into effect and Bob and Anne were her only chance to get home.
She worried about Jesse, too. For all his determination, he was seriously ill. She needed to get home, but she didn’t want to abandon him. He was a good man. She’d told him the truth when she said she trusted him. She barely knew the man and considered herself to be reasonably cautious, but even if he’d been at full strength, she couldn’t imagine him trying to rape her. Seduction, maybe, but she doubted even that. He seemed the type who would court a woman and not just because he lived in Victorian times. It was why she didn’t feel she could walk away even though he’d suggested she do so. Especially because he’d suggested it.
Her colleagues back at the station would laugh. She preferred to work alone and her boss always dinged her in her annual reviews for not being a team player. Jesse captivated her and not just because of his looks. The anchorman at her station was the proverbial tall, dark, and handsome type, but also a total jerk. She never gave him a second glance. But she had no time to moon over boys like a silly teenage girl. Their survival depended on her almost nonexistent outdoor skills.
Finding a ridge pole proved easier than finding two sticks with fork-like ends. As the shadows lengthened, she grew desperate. She’d found one piece of deadwood that might work, but nothing else on the ground fit the requirements.
“Time to see if this really works,” she muttered, pulling the multi-tool from her pocket. Her ex-boyfriend, Brett, had given it to her for her birthday and she’d done nothing to hide her unenthusiastic reaction. He’d gotten angry and her birthday had gone downhill from there—just as their relationship had months later. Who would have guessed that one day she’d be grateful to have the manly gadget? If she ever saw Brett again,