Part 5
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 2038 Local
Mac stared at him for a long moment in dead silence. "You're asking me to convince you... myself... that everything - including you - is nothing but my imagination run amuck? While you... me... tries to prove that you do exist?" She shook her head, muttering, "I'm going to be in therapy for years." Looking back up, she saw he was still waiting for an answer, "This is ridiculous."
Rabb leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, "Why are you so sure this is all your imagination?"
"Because... " Mac stood up and began to pace in the small area, "Because nothing else makes sense!"
He raised an eyebrow, "I don't exist because it doesn't make sense to you? Exactly how much experience have you had as a lawyer?"
She wheeled around, the look on her face was thunderous, "This doesn't make sense because I was born in 1967! How can I possibly be here in the Shenandoah Valley in 18... ?"
"1864," he supplied. Now it was his turn to stare, "You think you were born in 1967? How in the world did you come to believe that?" Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, he might wind up proving she was crazy.
"Because it's true!"
"How can it be true?" he countered. His voice became gentler, "Isn't it more likely that you've become confused? Perhaps you experienced something horrific and your mind decided to take you as far away as possible. It's certainly understandable, God knows I've seen things that made me want to flee."
Mac gritted her teeth, "That's a fine theory but turn it around. For me, the year is 2003 and all of this is the fantasy."
"So you're from the future?" Rabb folded his arms. "Prove it. Did this war end?" He tilted his head to one side when she nodded, "Who won?"
Mac sat down, "Your side, the Union. General Lee surrendered to General Grant at Appomattox in April of 1865." She eyed him for a moment, remembering what Annabel had told her, "Has Phil Sheridan taken command of the Valley forces yet or is General Hunter still in charge?"
Rabb leaned forward, frowning, "What? General Hunter is in command. What makes you think Sheridan's going to take over?"
She gave him a sidelong look, "I've told you how I know. Hunter can't handle Early and Sheridan is given the job." Mac waved a hand, "All of this is history. The Union wins the war, the slaves are freed, Lincoln is killed, the Reconstruction of the South is less than smooth and Andrew Johnson becomes the first president to miss impeachment by one vote."
He stared at her in confusion, "What do you mean, Lincoln is killed? How... when? It doesn't even look like he's going to be re-elected. George McClellan is running for the Democrats and he's promising to end the fighting immediately."
Mac took a deep breath, "Lincoln was re-elected and then was assassinated by John Wilkes Booth less than a week after Lee's surrender. Vice-President Johnson became President."
Rabb shot to his feet, "No!" He started pacing, "That can't be true!" He whirled towards her, "You're making this up just to prove your point!"
Mac looked at him steadily, "Why would I do that? I don't believe any of this is really happening, remember?"
He stood looking down at her for what seemed like an eternity and then said softly, "There's one way that we both can be right."
Mac stared up at him and then shook her head, "No!"
"Why not?"
"Why not? Because it's impossible, that's why not. You would have both of us believe that I somehow, magically, found myself one hundred and thirty-nine years in the past? Get real!" She saw the look of confusion on his face, "What?"
Rabb shook his head, "You say the oddest things. 'Get real'?" He sat down next to her, "How do you know it's not possible?"
"How can you even ask that? Time travel is science fiction not science fact! It's never been done!" She leaned forward, resting her elbows and rubbing the sides of her head.
"How do you know it's never been done?" He was working on convincing himself, as well. Anything would be better than deciding that she was some sort of lunatic. "It doesn't seem like something someone would mention in casual conversation." He chuckled, "They wouldn't want to appear crazy." His grin faded when he saw the look on her face, "What's wrong?"
Mac looked over at him, her expression stricken, "You don't understand... I can wake up from a dream."
He hesitated for just a moment and then put his hand on hers, "I'm sorry Sarah, but I am not a dream. I'm flesh and bone. I was born Josiah Tyler Rabb in Martinsburg, Pennsylvania on June 12, 1821. I attended West Point, graduated 28th in my class and was assigned to a post in coastal South Carolina. I met a wonderful woman, we fell in love and married, even though her family was appalled that I was an almost penniless, career soldier from the North. We had four children. William is twenty and a 2nd Lieutenant serving with George Thomas, Alexander is eighteen and at the Naval Academy, Molly is fourteen and at home with her aunt Arnett and my parents. Michael died of scarlet fever when he was four." His head dropped and he squeezed his eyes shut as his voice dwindled to a whisper.
He felt her other hand cover his. "I'm so sorry," Mac said quietly. "To lose a child... "
Rabb looked up at her, his eyes bright with tears, "... I lost my wife as well." He let his head drop back down and then felt himself in Miss MacKenzie's embrace. He clung to her as the grief washed over him again, "Cassie was my life... "
Mac held on wordlessly. What could she say? With increasing fear, she realized that this was something beyond her imagination. She closed her eyes and drew in a ragged breath as she finally accepted what had happened. Somehow, someway, she was trapped in the past without the means to escape.
Rabb drew away first, wiping his face and taking a deep breath, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have burdened you with that." He tried half a smile, "It's been getting better. Usually I can remember her without the pain. Every now and then, though, it overwhelms me."
"She must have been very special," Mac said softly.
He smiled fondly, "She was... Cassandra Seville Parker Rabb. She was smaller than you with hair like burnished copper. A loving heart and more grit than an entire squadron of cavalry troopers." He quirked an eyebrow at Mac, "She had a temper that, I suspect, matches your own. I didn't cross her any more than I had to. We had a good marriage. It didn't last nearly long enough, not nearly..." He took a deep breath and stood up, "I'm sorry. This discussion wasn't supposed to be about my problems. Where were we?"
Mac couldn't help the catch in her throat, "We were deciding that I have somehow found myself in 1864. I don't know how I got here and I don't know how to get back." She stared down at her hands. What was she going to do? She didn't belong in this time.
"I'm sorry," he knelt down next to her, "If there's anything I can do to help..."
Mac looked away with a sharp, bitter laugh, "Tell me how I should dress, and talk, and act. Tell me how to give up the life I knew, my friends, the man I love... ." She turned back and looked at him, her eyes were almost black, "Tell me how to avoid death, because I don't think I'll be able to survive for long in this time and place."
Rabb jerked himself upright, "Stop saying that! Do you want to die that badly?"
"No, but I can see how it will happen." She held up a hand, "Let me finish." Mac took a deep breath, "And tell me when I'm wrong. You are going to find somewhere here in the Valley for me to stay because you can't have a woman with you in battle. It isn't proper and it's not safe. Hopefully, they won't mind that I was brought to them by a Yankee, that I'm a Yankee myself. I have no friends, no relations, no money, no home. Hunter's already started the destruction but when Phil Sheridan takes charge, it will be far worse. He's going to drive what's left of the Confederate army out and then he's going to turn this Valley into a wasteland. Grant's orders tell him to make sure that 'a crow flying over the Valley will have to carry his own rations' and he will follow those orders with a vengeance. These people who have lost husbands, brothers, fathers and sons will now lose everything else. You'll be gone and I'll be here. A living, breathing target for their pain and rage. What exactly do you suppose my chances are of surviving?"
He stared at her soundlessly and she looked at her hands again, "About the only thing I will be able to control is making sure that they have to kill me quickly - and I'll be thankful for that small blessing." She lapsed into silence.
Rabb stood looking down at her for several long minutes. The scenario she'd laid out was appalling... and probably true. People were tired of the fighting, embittered by the horrible cost. Grant had lost somewhere between sixty and seventy thousand men in four months' time and Lincoln was asking for another half million to be drafted. The war was taking a new and ugly turn, both on the frontlines and at home. The viciousness of the New York Draft Riots last year had shocked onlookers and one had to look no further than the bloody landscape of Missouri to realize how devastating this conflict could be when the traditional rules of war were no longer followed.
Rabb sat down heavily next to Mac and took one of her hands. When she looked over at him, he gave her a wan smile, "That is not acceptable. We'll just have to see about getting you back where you belong." He cleared his throat, "Until then, 'Colonel', I'm placing you under arrest for assaulting Federal soldiers. You will consider yourself our prisoner."
Mac stared at him with an unreadable expression. Dear God, this was so much like Harm's normal blend of off-the-cuff improvisation and brilliance that it was eerie. As a prisoner of the Union Army, he had the excuse to keep her with the regiment while he looked for suitable quarters to confine her. Hopefully, it would also lessen the hostility of the locals. "Thank you," she said finally. Then she rose to her feet and came to attention, "Sir, permission to withdraw?"
Rabb climbed to his feet as well, "In a moment, madam." He turned and bellowed, "Sergeant Fitzgerald!" Moments later, a startled Fitzgerald appeared in the tent. The Major eyed him suspiciously, he'd obviously been just outside. How much had he heard? "Sergeant, I have placed Miss MacKenzie under arrest for her assault on Garrett, Jenson and Caine. She will be confined to camp until I decide on suitable punishment. You may escort her back to the wagon."
Fitzgerald blinked, "Sir? Ummm... Yes sir! Shall I post a guard, sir?"
"I don't believe that will be necessary, Sergeant." He looked at Mac, who was still standing impassively at attention, "Miss MacKenzie! Do you give me your word that you will not try to escape?"
"Yes sir!"
Rabb looked from Mac to Fitzgerald, "Very well. Dismissed!" He stifled a grin when Miss MacKenzie executed a precise left-face and marched out of the room. Fitzgerald gave him a look and hurried after her.
He dropped back into the chair as Billy put his head into the tent, "Sir, may we remove the dishes?" Rabb nodded and Billy gestured to someone outside the tent. Privates Mott and Taylor came in and in a very few minutes, had everything squared away.
As soon as they left, Billy was back in again, "Will there be anything else, sir?"
Rabb grinned, this was Billy's way of begging for information. "In the morning, Lieutenant. We'll discuss this in the morning." It might not hurt to enlist more help, but he wouldn't do anything without conferring with Sarah.
********
Fitzgerald and Mac walked silently back to the wagon. She had a lot to think about and the Sergeant was apparently at a loss. Once there, she turned and smiled at him, "Thank you, Sergeant."
"Yes ma'am," Fitzgerald said. He lingered a little, obviously unhappy, "Ma'am, I wouldn't worry too much about being under arrest. I'm sure the Major has his reasons."
"It's all right, Sergeant. The Major did explain his reasons and I agree with him. This is for the best." She turned and accepted the Sergeant's hand while climbing into the wagon, "Thank you and good night, Sergeant. I'll see you in the morning."
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 2038 Local
Mac stared at him for a long moment in dead silence. "You're asking me to convince you... myself... that everything - including you - is nothing but my imagination run amuck? While you... me... tries to prove that you do exist?" She shook her head, muttering, "I'm going to be in therapy for years." Looking back up, she saw he was still waiting for an answer, "This is ridiculous."
Rabb leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, "Why are you so sure this is all your imagination?"
"Because... " Mac stood up and began to pace in the small area, "Because nothing else makes sense!"
He raised an eyebrow, "I don't exist because it doesn't make sense to you? Exactly how much experience have you had as a lawyer?"
She wheeled around, the look on her face was thunderous, "This doesn't make sense because I was born in 1967! How can I possibly be here in the Shenandoah Valley in 18... ?"
"1864," he supplied. Now it was his turn to stare, "You think you were born in 1967? How in the world did you come to believe that?" Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, he might wind up proving she was crazy.
"Because it's true!"
"How can it be true?" he countered. His voice became gentler, "Isn't it more likely that you've become confused? Perhaps you experienced something horrific and your mind decided to take you as far away as possible. It's certainly understandable, God knows I've seen things that made me want to flee."
Mac gritted her teeth, "That's a fine theory but turn it around. For me, the year is 2003 and all of this is the fantasy."
"So you're from the future?" Rabb folded his arms. "Prove it. Did this war end?" He tilted his head to one side when she nodded, "Who won?"
Mac sat down, "Your side, the Union. General Lee surrendered to General Grant at Appomattox in April of 1865." She eyed him for a moment, remembering what Annabel had told her, "Has Phil Sheridan taken command of the Valley forces yet or is General Hunter still in charge?"
Rabb leaned forward, frowning, "What? General Hunter is in command. What makes you think Sheridan's going to take over?"
She gave him a sidelong look, "I've told you how I know. Hunter can't handle Early and Sheridan is given the job." Mac waved a hand, "All of this is history. The Union wins the war, the slaves are freed, Lincoln is killed, the Reconstruction of the South is less than smooth and Andrew Johnson becomes the first president to miss impeachment by one vote."
He stared at her in confusion, "What do you mean, Lincoln is killed? How... when? It doesn't even look like he's going to be re-elected. George McClellan is running for the Democrats and he's promising to end the fighting immediately."
Mac took a deep breath, "Lincoln was re-elected and then was assassinated by John Wilkes Booth less than a week after Lee's surrender. Vice-President Johnson became President."
Rabb shot to his feet, "No!" He started pacing, "That can't be true!" He whirled towards her, "You're making this up just to prove your point!"
Mac looked at him steadily, "Why would I do that? I don't believe any of this is really happening, remember?"
He stood looking down at her for what seemed like an eternity and then said softly, "There's one way that we both can be right."
Mac stared up at him and then shook her head, "No!"
"Why not?"
"Why not? Because it's impossible, that's why not. You would have both of us believe that I somehow, magically, found myself one hundred and thirty-nine years in the past? Get real!" She saw the look of confusion on his face, "What?"
Rabb shook his head, "You say the oddest things. 'Get real'?" He sat down next to her, "How do you know it's not possible?"
"How can you even ask that? Time travel is science fiction not science fact! It's never been done!" She leaned forward, resting her elbows and rubbing the sides of her head.
"How do you know it's never been done?" He was working on convincing himself, as well. Anything would be better than deciding that she was some sort of lunatic. "It doesn't seem like something someone would mention in casual conversation." He chuckled, "They wouldn't want to appear crazy." His grin faded when he saw the look on her face, "What's wrong?"
Mac looked over at him, her expression stricken, "You don't understand... I can wake up from a dream."
He hesitated for just a moment and then put his hand on hers, "I'm sorry Sarah, but I am not a dream. I'm flesh and bone. I was born Josiah Tyler Rabb in Martinsburg, Pennsylvania on June 12, 1821. I attended West Point, graduated 28th in my class and was assigned to a post in coastal South Carolina. I met a wonderful woman, we fell in love and married, even though her family was appalled that I was an almost penniless, career soldier from the North. We had four children. William is twenty and a 2nd Lieutenant serving with George Thomas, Alexander is eighteen and at the Naval Academy, Molly is fourteen and at home with her aunt Arnett and my parents. Michael died of scarlet fever when he was four." His head dropped and he squeezed his eyes shut as his voice dwindled to a whisper.
He felt her other hand cover his. "I'm so sorry," Mac said quietly. "To lose a child... "
Rabb looked up at her, his eyes bright with tears, "... I lost my wife as well." He let his head drop back down and then felt himself in Miss MacKenzie's embrace. He clung to her as the grief washed over him again, "Cassie was my life... "
Mac held on wordlessly. What could she say? With increasing fear, she realized that this was something beyond her imagination. She closed her eyes and drew in a ragged breath as she finally accepted what had happened. Somehow, someway, she was trapped in the past without the means to escape.
Rabb drew away first, wiping his face and taking a deep breath, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have burdened you with that." He tried half a smile, "It's been getting better. Usually I can remember her without the pain. Every now and then, though, it overwhelms me."
"She must have been very special," Mac said softly.
He smiled fondly, "She was... Cassandra Seville Parker Rabb. She was smaller than you with hair like burnished copper. A loving heart and more grit than an entire squadron of cavalry troopers." He quirked an eyebrow at Mac, "She had a temper that, I suspect, matches your own. I didn't cross her any more than I had to. We had a good marriage. It didn't last nearly long enough, not nearly..." He took a deep breath and stood up, "I'm sorry. This discussion wasn't supposed to be about my problems. Where were we?"
Mac couldn't help the catch in her throat, "We were deciding that I have somehow found myself in 1864. I don't know how I got here and I don't know how to get back." She stared down at her hands. What was she going to do? She didn't belong in this time.
"I'm sorry," he knelt down next to her, "If there's anything I can do to help..."
Mac looked away with a sharp, bitter laugh, "Tell me how I should dress, and talk, and act. Tell me how to give up the life I knew, my friends, the man I love... ." She turned back and looked at him, her eyes were almost black, "Tell me how to avoid death, because I don't think I'll be able to survive for long in this time and place."
Rabb jerked himself upright, "Stop saying that! Do you want to die that badly?"
"No, but I can see how it will happen." She held up a hand, "Let me finish." Mac took a deep breath, "And tell me when I'm wrong. You are going to find somewhere here in the Valley for me to stay because you can't have a woman with you in battle. It isn't proper and it's not safe. Hopefully, they won't mind that I was brought to them by a Yankee, that I'm a Yankee myself. I have no friends, no relations, no money, no home. Hunter's already started the destruction but when Phil Sheridan takes charge, it will be far worse. He's going to drive what's left of the Confederate army out and then he's going to turn this Valley into a wasteland. Grant's orders tell him to make sure that 'a crow flying over the Valley will have to carry his own rations' and he will follow those orders with a vengeance. These people who have lost husbands, brothers, fathers and sons will now lose everything else. You'll be gone and I'll be here. A living, breathing target for their pain and rage. What exactly do you suppose my chances are of surviving?"
He stared at her soundlessly and she looked at her hands again, "About the only thing I will be able to control is making sure that they have to kill me quickly - and I'll be thankful for that small blessing." She lapsed into silence.
Rabb stood looking down at her for several long minutes. The scenario she'd laid out was appalling... and probably true. People were tired of the fighting, embittered by the horrible cost. Grant had lost somewhere between sixty and seventy thousand men in four months' time and Lincoln was asking for another half million to be drafted. The war was taking a new and ugly turn, both on the frontlines and at home. The viciousness of the New York Draft Riots last year had shocked onlookers and one had to look no further than the bloody landscape of Missouri to realize how devastating this conflict could be when the traditional rules of war were no longer followed.
Rabb sat down heavily next to Mac and took one of her hands. When she looked over at him, he gave her a wan smile, "That is not acceptable. We'll just have to see about getting you back where you belong." He cleared his throat, "Until then, 'Colonel', I'm placing you under arrest for assaulting Federal soldiers. You will consider yourself our prisoner."
Mac stared at him with an unreadable expression. Dear God, this was so much like Harm's normal blend of off-the-cuff improvisation and brilliance that it was eerie. As a prisoner of the Union Army, he had the excuse to keep her with the regiment while he looked for suitable quarters to confine her. Hopefully, it would also lessen the hostility of the locals. "Thank you," she said finally. Then she rose to her feet and came to attention, "Sir, permission to withdraw?"
Rabb climbed to his feet as well, "In a moment, madam." He turned and bellowed, "Sergeant Fitzgerald!" Moments later, a startled Fitzgerald appeared in the tent. The Major eyed him suspiciously, he'd obviously been just outside. How much had he heard? "Sergeant, I have placed Miss MacKenzie under arrest for her assault on Garrett, Jenson and Caine. She will be confined to camp until I decide on suitable punishment. You may escort her back to the wagon."
Fitzgerald blinked, "Sir? Ummm... Yes sir! Shall I post a guard, sir?"
"I don't believe that will be necessary, Sergeant." He looked at Mac, who was still standing impassively at attention, "Miss MacKenzie! Do you give me your word that you will not try to escape?"
"Yes sir!"
Rabb looked from Mac to Fitzgerald, "Very well. Dismissed!" He stifled a grin when Miss MacKenzie executed a precise left-face and marched out of the room. Fitzgerald gave him a look and hurried after her.
He dropped back into the chair as Billy put his head into the tent, "Sir, may we remove the dishes?" Rabb nodded and Billy gestured to someone outside the tent. Privates Mott and Taylor came in and in a very few minutes, had everything squared away.
As soon as they left, Billy was back in again, "Will there be anything else, sir?"
Rabb grinned, this was Billy's way of begging for information. "In the morning, Lieutenant. We'll discuss this in the morning." It might not hurt to enlist more help, but he wouldn't do anything without conferring with Sarah.
********
Fitzgerald and Mac walked silently back to the wagon. She had a lot to think about and the Sergeant was apparently at a loss. Once there, she turned and smiled at him, "Thank you, Sergeant."
"Yes ma'am," Fitzgerald said. He lingered a little, obviously unhappy, "Ma'am, I wouldn't worry too much about being under arrest. I'm sure the Major has his reasons."
"It's all right, Sergeant. The Major did explain his reasons and I agree with him. This is for the best." She turned and accepted the Sergeant's hand while climbing into the wagon, "Thank you and good night, Sergeant. I'll see you in the morning."