His face was grim as he rode as quickly as he could from the edge of his fields to his home. The body he carried in his arms continued to bleed, though the man was unconscious. Kevin Richardson wondered if he’d be bringing a corpse home with him.

He was calling for his wife even before he’d dismounted from his horse. "Kristin! I need your help! Hurry." His horse, Galileo, whinnied nervously at the scent of blood, and his coat carried flecks of it.

Kevin dismounted, careful not to jar the body he held in his arms. Pressing his fingers to the man’s throat, he felt the thready pulse and sighed, relieved. Then, the front door was thrown open, and his enormously pregnant wife hurried out as quickly as she could. When she saw the body he carried, she froze.

"Kevin. Is that…That’s a Rebel." Her voice conveyed her momentary shock before she moved forward again. "Is he alive?"

He pursed his lips for a moment. "Right now, he is. We have to help him."

She heard the worry and hesitation in his voice. His thoughts were so obviously running along the same lines as hers. "All right. Let’s get him inside."

Kevin carried the body in easily enough as Kristin hurried ahead of him and cleared off the wooden trestle table in the middle of their sunwashed kitchen. The scent of blood mixed eerily with the fragrance of the fresh bread that she’d been baking. In silence, they went off in different directions. Kristin retrieved bundles of linen and a basket full of medical supplies. With precise movements, she slit the soldier’s clothing off and discovered where the blood flowed from. Her eyes filled with pity and horror, and she hoped they’d save him. Rebel or not, he was still an American.

By the time Kevin returned with pails of fresh water, the wound on the soldier’s upper arm and the graze wound on his temple had stopped bleeding. Kristin had bandaged up his head and was now bent over his arm. She’d been trained as a nurse before she’d married Kevin, and that training had stuck with her. Carefully, she slid the bullet through damaged flesh and dropped it onto the table.

"How bad is it?"

Pressing a hand on her belly, she looked over at her husband. She managed a small smile, but he could see the grim look in her eyes. "We need to turn him over. I think there’s something in his back because all this blood did not come from his arm."

Nodding, Kevin stepped forward and, gripping both shoulders, he slowly turned the soldier over. Kristin muffled a gasp, and his own stomach roiled from the sight. The poor man’s back looked as though it had been ripped apart.

"My God," Kristin whispered. "How is he still alive?"

Kevin grabbed water and linens and began to try to staunch the flow of blood. "I don’t know, but we’re going to try to keep him that way."

Swallowing hard, Kristin soaked more linens with water and went to work to save the poor man.

***

It took three hours, but they cleaned and bandaged up the wound on his back and laid the nameless Confederate soldier in a bed. Kristin tried to pour medicine between his lips, but most of it dripped back out. Unable to do more, she eased herself into a chair next to the bed and sighed. Her patient looked so young, but so many of the soldiers fighting on either side of the war were young. At least this one looked as though he’d made it into his twenties. She brushed a hand over his sun-streaked curls and wondered who he was.

They hadn’t been able to find any identification on him, and Kevin had told her that they were not to mention that they had taken in a Rebel soldier. Their neighbors would be furious at the act, but neither husband nor wife had been able to just let the man bleed out on their land. So they would simply wait until he either died or awoke before they decided what to do with him.

She heard the front door open and the cheerful voice of Kevin’s younger sister filled the house. Kristin smiled a little at the sheer innocence Chelsea had in the face of all their family had been through. When the voice quieted and she could hear only the quiet murmurs between Kevin and his sister, Kristin knew that Kevin would be telling her about their patient.

"Kristin!" The whirlwind that was her sister-in-law burst into the room, her bright green eyes full of concern, her dark hair slipping out of the bun she’d put it into that morning. Her eyes caught on the man lying in the bed. "Oh, my goodness. Kevin told me what happened. Are you both sure this is best?"

Chelsea, though innocent, was in no way naïve. She knew what it meant to Kevin to care for an enemy soldier. They’d lost a brother to this war, and the loss had made Kevin more furious with the rebellious South. Not only would it scandalize the rest of Gettysburg that they’d taken in a Rebel, but it was, she knew, a moral dilemma for Kevin himself. She’d seen the uncertainty in his eyes when he’d told her about their charge.

Now, she stared at the deathly pale man lying on the bed and wondered what would happen if he lived.

"We couldn’t let him die, Chelsea." Kristin shut her eyes briefly. Beneath her hands, her first child kicked fiercely. "It wouldn’t have been right."

"Of course. We must do our Christian duty." Chelsea’s voice was full of sarcasm. "It doesn’t matter how many men this soldier killed or the fact that he believes in enslaving people, we mustn’t let him die."

"Chelsea."

Chelsea studied the man on the bed one more time before she knelt by Kristin. "Why don’t you lie down, sleep a bit? Kevin wouldn’t want you to overwork yourself. This baby could come any day."

"I know." Kristin opened her eyes and sighed before she struggled to stand. "Sometimes, it feels as though I’ve been carrying this child for years. I need to hold it in my arms. Soon."

"You will." Chelsea led her sister-in-law to another bedroom and helped her get comfortable in the bed. "I’ll take care of dinner. You just sleep all you want."

Kristin adjusted the pillows and felt the ache in her back subside. "Thank you, darling. And Chelsea?"

Chelsea stopped at the door. "Yes?"

"Make sure to keep an eye on our patient. He has a fever. If it gets any worse, he’ll start seizing. Call Kevin and I if that happens."

"All right." But, even as she passed their patient’s room, Chelsea sniffed contemptuously. Truth be told, she thought, if the man died, she’d be fine with that. At least it would give their family peace.

***

Kevin rode through his expansive fields of wheat and tried to ignore the distant echoes of the battle. This was the second day that the war raged on in Gettysburg. He could only be so thankful that it hadn’t extended west of town, or his home would have been caught in the middle of it. Reports from town claimed General Meade would lead the Union forces to victory against Lee’s men. Kevin didn’t care much as long as the war moved away from his home.

But he’d brought the war into his home, he reminded himself with a sigh, as his eyes scanned the wheat for any signs of weeds or unhealthy stalks. Even now, there was a man in his home who’d fought for the Rebels and might die in his spare bedroom.

He’d tried to protect his family as much as he could, but the war had already claimed his brother. Jerald had been so proud to wear the Union blue and had strutted around in it proudly before riding off to join the troops. Three months later, Kevin had buried his twenty-seven year old brother. Now, he had only his twenty-two year old sister and his wife to keep safe. And their baby.

Kevin worried about the world he was about to bring his child into. It was a dangerous place, full of war and strife. Brothers fought brothers in this awful war, and he wished, for the millionth time, that the South had quietly freed their slaves. Maybe then men wouldn’t have died by the thousands, and families wouldn’t have to grieve their dead sons, brothers, husbands, and fathers.

After tending to Galileo, milking the cows, and making certain that Chelsea had gathered the eggs from the chicken coop, he carried the brimming milk pails into the kitchen and set them on the freshly scrubbed table. Chelsea hummed as she stirred the cooking pot. When she glanced over her shoulder at him, she smiled.

"Everything taken care of?"

He set his hat beside the pails on the table and ran a weary hand through his nearly shoulder-length dark hair. "Yes. Where’s Kristin?"

"Resting as she should have been doing all day instead of running herself ragged over a Rebel soldier." Her voice was bitter, and Kevin sighed.

"Chelsea. We talked about this."

"I know. It doesn’t mean I have to like it."

He just shook his head and knew it was best to leave his sister alone when she was in such a mood. He headed upstairs and, checking on his sleeping wife, he entered the sickroom.

The young soldier was still alive, he saw with a mixture of relief and anxiety. Sliding the sheets off the man’s shoulders, Kevin examined the bandages and noted that he hadn’t bled through anything yet. His skin, though still hot, had cooled since this afternoon. Perhaps, with luck, the man would pull through, and then…

And then what? Kevin slumped in the chair by the bed, his forehead resting on his hand. And then he’d have to deal with a conscious enemy soldier in his home. One who could hurt his wife, his unborn child, or his sister.

When the man moaned, Kevin glanced over and noted that there was sweat pearling on his forehead. Knowing that that meant his fever was beginning to break, he sighed. Tomorrow. Their patient was sure to wake tomorrow.

Once he did, things would never be quite the same.