Chad opened the telegram. It was from Iris.
Heard about battle. Hope all is well. Did you use Ottoman metal?
Chad’s heartbeat pounded in the middle of his chest. Any lingering doubt that he’d had about whether he’d traveled somehow to see Iris the afternoon after the Confederate attack disappeared. Which opened up the possibility for even more strangeness.
The small rational part of his mind that believed in shared hysteria changed its opinion—Mrs. Soper really must have been some sort of supernatural being who had managed to be in bed and still lead Claire out of the General’s House the night of the attack. She’d disappeared from the hospital, and no one had been able to find her or her body. Some had speculated the n*****s had spirited it away, but Chad didn’t think so. He just didn’t
