Ella wanted to pull her arm back from his, but he had clamped his hand over her arm. It was such an unfamiliar feeling… but it felt delicious. His hands were warm and comforting. She looked up at his face, searching. A smile warmed his face. He seemed guileless. She couldn’t object to that.

They walked down the steps behind the house. What awaited them, surprised them, both. The slave cabins were largely untouched. Only the room from one hut lay in the common area. The shelter was all but decimated, but the men inside had escaped.

The barn held, but there was damage—the wooden shutters and the barn door were gone, and hay was everywhere. The horses and cattle were still in their stalls, but the chickens were running around the yard.

An officer walked up to Colonel Ross and saluted.

“Yes, Smith. What do you report?”

“Sir, there were no casualties, although six men need to go to sickbay because they were hit with flying debris. The roof from a cabin blew off and barely cleared two of their heads when they ran for shelter. No livestock was injured, as near as we can tell. There was minor damage to the barn and six cabins sustained damage.”

“Where did you establish the sickbay?” Jackson spoke up before Ella could say anything.

“Sir, we have cleared out a cabin and have designated that area for the sick.”

“Thank you, Smith.” He nudged her around the fallen debris of the cabins and directed her towards the barn.

Ella looked his way. He treated everyone with kindness and fairness, and it was obvious the Lieutenant Colonel thought so much of him. She didn’t want to pay him attention. What was it about this man that made her body betray her so? Every time there was an opportunity, she stared his way. He had a commanding presence that exuded confidence.

If only he wasn’t on the wrong side.

Wait, what was she thinking?

He looked down at her and her eyes opened as big as saucers. Did he hear her thoughts?

“Miss Whitford… Ella? I do like that name.” Not waiting for her response, he kept talking. His voice emitted almost a velvety feel to her ears. “I have something for you. You have been very gracious. We agreed to pay you something for the use of the land, food and materials we are using and expect to use. I hope this is enough.” He placed a small brown envelope in her grasp, clasping her hands in his for an extra moment.

Ella quavered inside from the contact as she opened the envelope to find US currency. There were twenty-five dollars in that envelope. Real money. Federal currency. That was more money than she had seen in what now seemed like forever even though it was going on a year-and-a-half. That was a fortune for her. She had not expected it from him, especially when they had already been fixing up the plantation. “Err…yes.” It was all she could mutter. She was trying to process all of what he said to her.

“Yes?”

“Yes…um…I.” She stopped and smiled up at him. “I like it very much when you call me Ella.” She looked down again at the envelope before she placed it in her pocket. “This is totally unexpected. I mean, I recall you told me you would pay me something. We never discussed it further. I never considered it and certainly I didn’t expect it. But it will help me very much.” Her throat clogged with emotion.

She gazed up at him, locking his eyes with hers, and said, “Thank you, Colonel.” A tear moved from the corner of her eye, creating a lone stream down her cheek. She wanted to brush it away but fought against calling attention to it.

* * *

Please, call me Jackson.” His tongue suddenly thickened, causing him to stammer. “Well… I uh, I like it when you call me Jackson.” He stumbled over the words. This wasn’t going like he had rehearsed. It was embarrassing.

She was the first woman in years that he had any interest in and his damn tongue had to tie itself up in a knot. It made for a difficult speech. Without realizing it, Jackson placed his hand over her hand. Shock waves shot through him. He had never felt this way around a woman before; the only feeling he recognized was the sudden tightness growing in his trousers. He would very soon face humiliation.

“Yes, well, it is the least we can do for your generous support.” He cleared his throat and tried to move forward, bringing her attention to what was around them. “The horses and cattle seemed to have fared well.”

Except for the animals, they were alone in the barn. His hand was still touching her hand—holding it—as they walked into the barn. How many people had seen that?

Where is Marshall? I will probably hear of this. What is it about this small mite of a woman that has me so befuddled?

Jackson pondered for a moment as his eyes continued to search for his friend. He stopped when he noticed she was watching him.

“Jackson,” she said tentatively, as if testing the strangeness of saying his name aloud, “I should head back into the house. I want to grab my egg basket and come back out. I’m thinking the chickens may have put out a bumper crop over the last night. Unless fear makes them react the complete opposite.” She nibbled her lip wearing a look of hesitation.

“Wait. Let me escort you back.” He fought the urge to kiss her, wanting his moment to become theirs, but knowing that would not happen. Jackson released her hand and pressed the small of her back, directing her back to the house. “After you, Ella.”

They took their time heading back. Both were quiet.

* * *

Ella gathered the eggs and the extra milk she could sell. She was surprised she had these many eggs left over with the addition of these new tenants. Twenty-six eggs. Maybe she could make it to The Griddle without breaking them. It was a source of income she could count on, and she needed the money, even with the money from the colonel. She wouldn’t allow herself to count on money from Jackson—Colonel Ross.

It was still hard to call him Jackson, but it felt nice.

Sara counted on Ella’s contribution—not that she was the only one bringing eggs. Goodness, Sara could never run the restaurant on her small offerings. She laughed out loud at the thought. It had been almost a week since the hurricane, and that was a few days too long since her last visit. She needed to see her friend.

So much had happened. Should she tell Sara about Nolan? Her brother and Sara needed to see each other, but how could that happen? Just thinking about this made her head hurt. Nolan was feeling better, and he needed to leave—soon.

Ol’ Indie and Carter planned to get him out, and she would rather not know how that happened. They knew the swamps and the river better than anyone she knew.

The soldiers reassembled their cook wagons and tents on the lawns. As if the storm had never happened, they continued their daily maneuvers. It was truly something to watch. She didn’t understand much of what they were doing unless they were shooting. But she noticed there were fewer and fewer birds on the plantation. The guns probably scared them.