Jack: Ella Wood Novellas, #2

By Michelle Isenhoff

Keeping secrets is a lonely business when they're as dangerous as Jack's.

 

Jack is the second of three novellas that accompany the highly acclaimed Ella Wood trilogy, a Civil War historical fiction series. Jack can be read as a stand-alone, but starting with the main trilogy is recommended.

 

BOOK DESCRIPTION:

For the better part of a decade, Jack has lived a double life. To all appearances, he's the spoiled heir to one of Charleston's wealthiest plantations. But his life would be forfeit and his family in jeopardy if anyone knew what he'd really been up to. He'd be shunned from polite society if anyone guessed his plans for Ella Wood. So he maintains his lonely façade, with no realistic hopes of marriage and only slaves to confide in.

 

When war comes to Charleston, Jack enlists in the South Carolina infantry. But military service brings him into contact with a beautiful and unlikely confidante. Will his dreams for Ella Wood outlast the war? Will his new love?

 

SERIES DESCRIPTION:

Lizzie, Jack, Jovie...you've grown to love them. Now come to a deeper understanding of these important characters through their own experiences. This series will fill in additional details in the Ella Wood trilogy's main storyline. In this second installment, read the stirring account of Jack's life and love in service to the Confederacy.

 

To avoid spoilers within the original Ella Wood trilogy, the following reading order is recommended:

Book 1: Lizzie. To be read anytime after the first book of the Ella Wood trilogy, Ella Wood. Book 2: Jack. To be read anytime after the second book of the Ella Wood trilogy, Blood Moon.

Book 3: Jovie. To be read after the third book of the Ella Wood trilogy, Ebb Tide.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michelle Isenhoff
• Release date: Feb 2, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215861196

Michelle Isenhoff

MICHELLE ISENHOFF's work has been reader-nominated for a Cybils Award, the Great Michigan Read, and the Maine Student Book Award. She's also placed as a semi-finalist in the Kindle Book Review Book Awards, a finalist in the Wishing Shelf Book Awards, and earned multiple Readers' Favorite 5 Star seals of approval. A former teacher and longtime homeschooler, Michelle has written extensively in the children's genre and been lauded by the education community for the literary quality of her work. These days, she writes full time in the adult historical fiction and speculative fiction genres. To keep up with new releases, sign up for her newsletter at http://hyperurl.co/new-release-list.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Manassas Junction, Virginia

July 21, 1861

Get down!

The shell screamed overhead and exploded behind the Confederate line as Jack Preston hunkered in the muddy trench with his comrades. He peeked his head above the rim of earth but could see nothing except the stone bridge spanning Blackburn’s Ford and a skim of trees lining the far bank of Bull Run Creek. For seven hours, he had listened to the thunder of battle rolling from the army’s left flank, far away to the west and north. Then the Union artillery in the fields beyond the creek had turned their muzzles in the direction of the 2nd South Carolina infantry.

That had been five hours ago.

Another shell shrieked past. Every man among the green recruits looked pale and sick to his stomach. Jack had taken to soldiering with a vengeance. He’d handled guns from a young age. He excelled at the physical nature of drills. And he thrived on the discipline and the camaraderie of his fellow recruits. But at the moment, he was convinced he’d made a terrible mistake.

You reckon it’s ever going to end?

Jack turned to meet the anxious gaze of Jovie Cutler. Best friends since boyhood, he and Jovie had spent idyllic years growing up on adjoining plantations and had just finished their second year at the College of Charleston when Fort Sumter fell eight weeks before. Afterward, they’d enlisted together. There was no one with whom Jack would rather face the enemy.

It’s not exactly what we imagined, is it? Jack tipped up his canteen with a trembling hand and took a sip of water. It curdled in his stomach, but he took another just the same. The summer heat poured into the fortifications and his wool uniform soaked through with sweat. What do you suppose we’d be doing if we were at home right now?

I’ll tell you what I’d like to be doing, Jovie answered. Swimming in the pond in the back pasture. Or sitting beside the fishing hole with a book on my knee and a bucket of blackberries at my side.

Jack smiled grimly. Right now, I’d gladly take a week in the rice fields with the slaves.

Another shell whistled past and landed close enough to throw dirt over the rim of the bulwarks. Jack cowered into the logs bracing the earthen wall and listened to the man on his other side vomit onto his own boots. He wasn’t the first. That morning’s pork and cornbread liberally blanketed the ground—a sour feast for the flies.

Jack had just about had enough of war.

Captain Dutart strode up and down behind them, head up, watching the Centreville Road. That’s where they’ll be coming, boys, straight at the bridge. That devil McDowell wants the railroad junction in Manassas, but they won’t be breaking through here. Not on our watch. No one crosses that creek!

Jack’s stomach flipped again. His courage remained untested in battle. Though he was one of the best marksmen in the company, shooting squirrels and tin cans didn’t prepare anyone for killing men. He had no way of predicting his response once battle commenced.

Beside him, Jovie pulled an image out of his pocket and studied it in the slanting light of early evening. It was a daguerreotype of Jack’s sister Emily taken a few years before. Aware of Jovie’s long affection, Jack had swiped it on his last trip home and made a gift of it.

Have you heard from her? Jack asked.

She writes.

You don’t sound very happy about that.

Jovie scuffed his boot in the filth of the trench. I don’t think she puts quite the same priority on our communications as I do.

She knows you care for her?

I told her, but she’s only got eyes for Thaddeus Black. His voice dripped with disgust.

She’d be a fool to choose him over you.

Thad wouldn’t enlist, and I’ll be gone for a year. He has all the advantage.

Not all. You have a dangerous gift for words.

Jovie glanced at him skeptically.

Your letters are your advantage, Jack insisted. Show Emily your heart. You can make her remember you when she’s looking at him.

A glitter came to Jovie’s eyes that was more than reflected sunlight. He nodded once, short and resolute.

Jack clapped him on the shoulder. Thad’s a nice enough fellow, but I’m cheering for you.

Another shell shrieked past, landing in a vacant field behind the lines. Then a cry went up from the left side of the line and rippled through the ranks. Yankees ahead! In the trees across the creek. Jovie slipped the image back in his pocket and both men scrambled into position.

Captain Dutart raised his voice. Hold your fire, men! Wait until you have a target in your sights.

Every man among them knelt with head and shoulders lifted above the rim of earth, guns trained on the opposite bank. Hearts pounded. Mouths went dry. The tension swelled until it was thick enough to pierce with a bayonet. Jack could feel a tremble run through his spine. This was his moment of truth, the instant he’d both anticipated and dreaded. 

Would he prove a man or a coward?

Here they come, men. Captain Dutart raised his sword. Figures appeared on the far bank, flickering with light and shadow, scrabbling among the trees. On they came until only the creek separated them from the Confederate position. Fire!

Jack picked out a blue-clad soldier, closed one eye, and sighted down the barrel of his rifle. His hands shook. As he exhaled, he squeezed gently on the trigger. The gun punched his shoulder. The Yankee went down. Without taking time to feel, he ducked beneath the shelter of the wall to reload. It was a habitual motion, so well rehearsed he needn’t think through the steps. Instinct kicked in. Squeamishness evaporated. And when he rose to sight a second time, his hands held steady.

Breathe. Squeeze. Another Yankee dropped. He sensed Jovie beside him repeating the same mechanical motions.

The staccato of gunfire soon thinned from solid volleys to a constant, irregular popping as men reloaded at different speeds. Gun smoke grew thick, burning Jack’s nose and blurring his vision. The Yankees came in a wave, streaming over the bridge and plunging into the shallow waters surrounding it. 

The exchange of fire was hot and thick, and Jack found himself invigorated by the quick pace of battle. His mind cleared, processing a thousand details in a moment and reading the enemy instinctively. He picked off an officer as well as three men who never made it past the center of the stream. He was tireless. Energized. A machine of repetitious movement. He’d been born for this moment.

Drive them back, boys! Captain Dutart yelled. The roar of guns swelled in response, but it was the last command he would give. A bullet pierced his temple and he slumped to the bottom of the trench.

Jovie dropped to the officer’s side, but a quick look confirmed the fatality. He’s gone.

There! Behind that tree! Jack shouted, pausing to reload. He’d located the man who’d downed the captain. Pick him off!

Jovie drew a bead on the fellow and fired. The Yankee’s head snapped back and he dropped from sight.

That’s it! Jack encouraged, lining up another shot of his own. Come on, boys! Let’s send them back to Washington!

Heavy fire soon drove the Union soldiers back among the trees. They left behind two dozen dead and wounded, three of whom gently floated down the stream with the current. The skirmish only lasted ten minutes, but Jack was keyed up and winded. He barely had time to catch his breath before the Yankees advanced again, driving hard for the bridge. 

Jack sprang back into motion. The second attack proved just as short and just as brutal as the first. Even in diminutive time frames, battle was a hard taskmaster. Jack’s shoulder ached from the kick of the rifle,