Jesse lapsed into silence, thinking of the honey-haired beauty who had stared at him so long. He'd been hard-pressed not to stare back at her just as boldly. Despite her confusion, there was a vibrancy in her that intrigued him. He'd found most young women to be rather pale, insipid creatures, full of flirtatious tricks and little else. Having resisted his parents' efforts to wed him to any of the empty-headed belles they kept pushing at him, he'd been vaguely grateful when the war interrupted their marital plans.

"She isn't going alone?" Deborah was asking, and Jesse looked up at her with a faint smile.

"No, Forrest has requested a volunteer to don a disguise and accompany her into Memphis."

"At least she won't be alone. But what man would be so foolish as to take such a risk?"

Jesse grinned. "Me."


******************

It came to Amanda in the seconds before she was fully awake, how she had arrived in 1864. Her eyes popped open. Sunlight streamed through the windows and was diffused by the mosquito netting around her bed. Of course. The portrait in the attic was the clue. This Deborah was the sad woman in the portrait. The fair hair drawn back from her forehead, the wide, honest eyes-the gown. It had to be the connection, the vehicle that had sent her spiraling back in time.

Nothing had happened until she'd buttoned the final pearl button of Deborah's wedding dress. Then she'd immediately grown faint. There had been a sudden gust of wind, the lights had gone out, and everything had gone black. Was that when it had happened?

Blinking at the gauzy threads of light filtering through the netting and into her eyes, Amanda put a hand over her brow. That must have been it. Somehow, the dress had been the catalyst to bring her back in time-but how could she help? Deborah had already wed Michael, and apparently the dissension between the brothers was not troublesome enough to spark murder. But where were they? Deborah had said Jamie and Michael were gone. The news article- the one in the attic that had related the details-hadn't it said something about Michael being killed by his half brother somewhere in the woods? Maybe by some miracle it was still there, and she could find out the details.

She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, batting aside the netting. As she slid from the bed, a light tap sounded on the door and she called out, "Come in."

"Good morning," Deborah said as she came into the bedroom with a well-laden tray. "Did you sleep well?"

Amanda managed an answering smile, wondering how much she could ask without being considered a lunatic. Did she dare ask if Deborah had heard from her husband and brother-in-law? Of course. It was a natural enough question to ask…

“I thought you might like to have a bite to eat up here in your room rather than with the others," Deborah was saying as she placed the tray on a small stool. She chatted easily as she puttered with the teacup and saucer, and Amanda managed reasonably intelligent replies.

Finally Deborah stood back, fidgeting with the folds of her dress a moment before looking up with a slightly embarrassed smile. "I hate to seem impolite, but I must ask- is your shift all you have left of your clothing?"

"My shift?" Amanda stared at her blankly, then realized that she was referring to her silk nightie. She nodded. "I suppose so. I… I haven't seen anything else of mine here."

She hadn't meant to say the last, but apparently Deborah misunderstood. "That's all right. I'll find clothes for you. We're just glad you were able to get here. My brother- Captain Jordan-says that Yankees are still all around us and it's dangerous to attempt travel right now. I'm sure Jamie will be pleased to know you made it here safely. Families should stick together in times of crisis, don't you agree?"

Amanda nodded and seized the opening. "Where did you say Jamie and Michael are right now?"

"They're scouts," Deborah replied vaguely. "I never know just where they are. I hope they come back safe and sound, though with all the Yankees that have been coming through Holly Springs, they'll probably have to do like Jesse did and hide in the woods."

"Is Forrest still here?"

"He rode out this morning."

"I see. Well, I'm sure your husband will return soon."

Deborah hesitated, then said softly, "I hope Michael is able to linger a day or two next time. Our hours together are so short."

"I hope so, too," Amanda said. She wished she could recall all the details of the news article. If only her head wasn't still so achy and she didn't feel so strange…

After Deborah left, Amanda went to the window and looked out. This room was at the rear, and the view should have been of empty pastures fenced with barbed wire and a few metal gates. Instead of empty pastures, there were towering wooden structures that looked permanent and weathered. Now there were two barns and a few more outbuildings scattered neatly in the field, with thick woods ranging beyond. Leaning against the window frame, Amanda had the thought that what had happened to her was like something out of The Twilight Zone, or even Quantum Leap.

When a knock sounded on her door again, she called out permission to enter without turning around. She was almost afraid to see Deborah again. What could she say? What could she ask that wouldn't make her sound insane?

"Do you always entertain gentlemen in your shift?" a male voice drawled, and Amanda whirled around.

Jesse Jordan stood just inside her door, arms folded across his broad chest. Inexplicably, her heart leaped. She stared at him; the transition from dream man to reality hit her with all the force of a two-by-four. In daylight, he was even more devastating. What could she say? What should she do? She'd better think of something fast, she decided as his lazy glance drifted from her face down the length of her scantily clad body. Belatedly realizing that she wore nothing other than a thin silk nightie-immodest in mixed company even in 1994-Amanda stepped quickly to the bed and pulled a length of mosquito netting around herself.

"No gentleman," she said pointedly, "would come in once he saw that I was not dressed. But I see you're ignoring that rule."

"I take your point. Here." He strode forward, snatched up a robe, and flung it on the bed. “Put that on. We have to talk."

"I can't think of any-" she began, but put up a hand to stop him when he started around the end of the bed. "All right, all right. Give me a minute. Turn your back, since it's obvious you must be reminded to be a gentleman."

"I wouldn't be so cocky if I were you," he shot back, but turned around. "Hurry up."

Amanda reached for the robe and pulled it around herself; she recognized it as the one she'd worn the night before. "All right," she said when she had the laces fastened. "What's so important?"

He turned, eyeing her for a long moment. His mouth curved into a crooked smile that made her heart leap. It was the same smile she'd seen in the photograph. She remembered it. It was just more potent than she'd thought it would be. Combined with the slight crinkling of eyes that were dark blue instead of brown as she'd always assumed, the smile had a devastating affect on her.

"What do you want?" she heard herself ask in an embarrassingly husky voice.

To her surprise, he reached out to lift a strand of her hair in one hand. Rubbing it between his fingers, he met her gaze steadily. "That's a dangerous question to be asking me right now," he murmured.

Amanda's breath caught in her throat when she saw the glitter in his eyes. When he wound the length of her hair around his hand, bringing her closer to him, her knees suddenly felt weak.

"Captain-"

"Jesse," he corrected softly. His hand was next to her cheek, and his thumb caressed the side of her face in a soft motion. She shivered, and the crooked smile deepened.

Putting her hand over his, she gently but firmly removed it from her face; her hair swung back against her shoulder. "I'm certain you didn't come to my room just to make small talk, Captain. I repeat-what do you want?"

Not seeming at all chastened by her rejection, he gave a shrug of his broad shoulders. "It's not just what I want," he said. "It's what Forrest wants."

"Forrest. Oh, yes. The man in the plumed hat."

"He's a bit more than a man in a plumed hat," Jesse said dryly, "but yes, that's the man I mean. He's come up with an idea. Would you be willing to take a risk to help your country?"

"A risk-my country? How on earth could anything / do help my country?"

"You apparently got out of Memphis, so you'd know how to get back in, right?"

Blinking, she muttered, "Straight up Highway 78 until it turns into Lamar at Shelby Drive sounds like the best way to me. But I guess you wouldn't know about that."

It was Jesse's turn to blink in confusion. Then his eyes narrowed and he shook his head. "You must still be unsettled. I told Forrest it wasn't a good plan, that you were unsuitable. But once he gets an idea-"

Amanda sat down abruptly on the bed, and put her face in her palms. Her words were soft and muffled. "I'm beginning to feel like Dorothy in Oz. Have there been any tornadoes through here lately?"

Jesse was silent, and after a moment she looked up at him. Of course. The Wizard of Oz hadn't been written yet. She sighed and quoted under her breath, "I do believe in spooks, I do, I do…"

"What?"

She shrugged. "Never mind. Let's just say that I had an unconventional upbringing, if it makes it any easier to understand," she murmured. "Will that do?"

"Guess it'll have to do." Jesse raked a hand through his hair. "What's your answer? Will you assist Forrest?"