Love's Rescue by Tammy Barley

her head and let Jake lead her outside. The night closed in around them.
    A sharp wind wailed and snatched at their clothes as Jake led her past dark yards lined with low fences. Jess curled into her cloak as if the fabric would protect her from the news and the cold alike.
    When they were several houses away, Jake slowed to a stop.
    Jess’s suspense slowly shattered as he slid his hat from his head.
    Her eyes fell closed. It was over. The waiting, the wondering—all of it—was over.
    A terrible heaviness settled within her. She breathed deeply for several moments, willing herself to calm. Finally, her eyes met Jake’s. Their glimmering depths mirrored the regret he must have felt since he received the telegram. He had known the pain that would follow.
    “Tell me.”
    “Tom wasn’t able to learn anything from the Federals,” he said gently, “but a telegraph operator, a Confederate, tapped into one of his transmissions and decided to make inquiries on his own. He learned that your brother carried a message into a battle in Kentucky. There were thousands of casualties on both sides, and few doctors.” Jake turned the hat in his hands. “Those who are still missing have been presumed dead.”
    Hope flickered as Jess clung to that lovely, indefinite word, missing. “That doesn’t mean anything. Ambrose could have been wounded, and maybe he’s recovering in a hospital somewhere, or in someone’s home.”
    “No, Jess. Your brother’s colonel relayed Ambrose’s description to the telegrapher. Confederate artillerymen confirmed that he was the courier they saw in battle. They said they saw him riding hard just before being hit by exploding cannon shells.” Jess’s hopeful conviction wavered. “Those same soldiers found a dispatch on the ground some time later. Colonel Morgan’s signature was on it, and he confirmed it was the one he sent with Ambrose. Ambrose…Ambrose was never seen again.”
    Her bravado began to fail, but Jess lifted her chin. She would not fall apart in front of this man. “He’s a Hale. Hales are too stubborn to die.”
    Jake didn’t comment on that. “The Confederates headed out to join other forces while the Federals gave chase. They weren’t able to see to the wounded or—”
    “Was he buried?” She knew she sounded angry, but she didn’t care.
    “Nearby farmers buried all the dead. Union and Confederate dead, some in mass graves, but most of them where they fell.”
    Farmers, not soldiers, did the burying? “So we don’t know for sure—”
    “Jess.” His voice was calm, final.
    Jess walked a few paces, feeling wooden. Not many people were about, she thought absently, what with the hour and the cold. Yet inside the saloons down the road, hundreds of people were milling about, even now. Suddenly, it all seemed so empty—the city, the mountains, all of it. The land was empty and her heart was empty. Empty because Ambrose was no longer alive to fill them.
    The smell of smoke drew her uncaring gaze to a neighbor’s chimney. She let her head fall back. It met with Jake’s solid chest. His comforting presence was her undoing.
    The stars above blurred. Jake’s words swam in her ears, more nightmarish than real. Thousands of casualties…mass graves…farmers buried the dead. Jake gripped her arms in sympathy. How was she supposed to continue on without her beloved brother? And Emma…Emma would never know her brother, and her mother… Jess dug her fingers into her hair. How could she sit her mother down and tell her she had lost another son? The months after little Broderick died remained painfully clear in her memory. Icy fear stabbed her. Would her mother survive this? And their father…
    Jess cried for them all. Between Ambrose and their father, there would be no amends. No penitence expressed, no forgiveness granted—no peace. Isaac Hale would not have another chance. None of them would.
    “It’s such a waste!” she hissed through her sobs.
    “Hang on, Jess!”