Triumph by Heather Graham Page A

again.
    She met Sissy’s eyes and frowned, wondering what on earth had tempted Sissy to do something so stupid as to leave the safety of Washington.
    “You don’t understand. I give you my word that she is a free woman.”
    The soldier hesitated. “Maybe I ought to call my colonel in.”
    “Maybe you had best!” Sydney said. “My God! My eldest brother risks his life daily against the Union blockade to keep the South alive, and I have just come from seeing another brother who risks his life daily to save our soldiers! I have put my own life in peril again and again, sir, and you are trying to make my life difficult, denying me the right to leave my own country with my own servant?”
    He cleared his throat.
    “That, ma’am, is the point. You are attempting to return to Washington—a hotbed of illegal activity!”
    “Call your superior, sir. Now! Or, I promise you, they will hear about this in the highest of government—and military—circles!”
    That made the man pause. “Fine. You can take the darkee with the big mouth. Too bad she ain’t somebody’s slave—a good whomping might shut her up and show her her place! But the man and his wife stay.”
    Frowning, Sydney looked around Sissy at the tall, emaciated-looking black man and the thinner woman at his side. They looked forty, but probably weren’t much more than twenty, she thought.
    “Sissy—”
    “Why ma’am, I told you my mommy died just outside Manassas, and that I was coming for Del here and his wife, Geraldine!” Sissy told her enthusiastically.
    Sissy had told her no such thing. And she doubted that this man was Sissy’s brother. But who was he. And what in God’s name was Sissy doing?
    Sissy suddenly let out an awful wail. “I can’t leave my brother, Miss Sydney, ma’am. What with my momma newly dead and all—”
    “Sir!” Sydney interrupted, “I’m telling you this woman is in my employ. I’ll vouch for her and the others,” she said firmly.
    The soldier seemed indecisive. “There’s word you married a Yank, ma’am.”
    “Word is true. But it hasn’t changed who I am, or where I was born, sir. You said that you knew me. I helped hundreds of men in that hospital, sir.”
    “But you’re going through the lines to return to your new husband in the Northern capital. Why should I take your word?”
    Sydney knew she was capable of being extremely assertive when she chose. Partially because she had inherited her facial structure from her grandmother’s family—she had strong, wide cheekbones, a dead straight nose, and wide eyes beneath a clear, defined brow. Yet her eyes, green as a forest, were from her mother, and it was from her mother as well that she had learned to be assertive and determined—and courteous, of course—all in one.
    “You should take my word, sir, because I have offered it, and I promise you that I do not do so lightly.”
    “You have your papers?”
    “Yes, of course, I have travel papers. I am on personal business, family business, and nothing more. My papers to leave the North were approved by General Magee, and my permission to return to the North was signed by General Longstreet just yesterday!”
    “All right, then, ma’am, take your people and pass on through. I can’t, however, promise you any safety from here on out. You’re still some distance from the Yankee lines. But there ain’t been much action of late.”
    “I know that, sir. Thank you for the warning. Sissy, come along now—with Del and Geraldine.”
    She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and walked on by. Slowly. An orderly from her brother’s surgery remained with the crude wagon he had managed to allow her for transportation back to the North. Corporal Randall’s skinny roan mare was tied to the rear of the wagon. When they reached Northern lines, he would leave her with the conveyance, and return to her brother’s surgery outside Richmond.
    She prayed that Sissy was walking along behind her—slowly. But she