The Soldier's Redemption (Heartsong Presents) - Softcover
Jacob Taft Is Ready to Leave Town
But when an earthquake devastates San Francisco, the army sergeant stays to aid in the recovery. With an entire camp of refugees to protect, Jacob believes his present obligations—and his past regrets—leave no room for romance. Until he meets a selfless, kindhearted beauty determined to help as many survivors as she can.
Growing up in an orphanage, Nina Hansen always longed for a family. Creating her own with the children she rescues comes naturally...as do her feelings for Jacob. Though the handsome soldier seems set in his solitary ways, Nina's bright outlook is contagious. Will rebuilding the city together tear down the walls around their hearts?
But when an earthquake devastates San Francisco, the army sergeant stays to aid in the recovery. With an entire camp of refugees to protect, Jacob believes his present obligations—and his past regrets—leave no room for romance. Until he meets a selfless, kindhearted beauty determined to help as many survivors as she can.
Growing up in an orphanage, Nina Hansen always longed for a family. Creating her own with the children she rescues comes naturally...as do her feelings for Jacob. Though the handsome soldier seems set in his solitary ways, Nina's bright outlook is contagious. Will rebuilding the city together tear down the walls around their hearts?
"synopsis" may belong to another edition of this title.
About the Author:
Cynthia Hickey is the author of several cozy mysteries and five Heartsong Presents historicals. She is active on FB, twitter, and Goodreads. She lives in Arizona with her husband, one of their seven children, two dogs and two cats. Cynthia has five grandchildren who keep her busy and tell everyone they know that “Nana is a writer”. Visit her website at www.cynthiahickey.com.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:
San Francisco, April 18, 1906
Nina Hansen fastened the last button on her dress and slipped her feet into her shoes. Smiling, she glanced out her bedroom window. Just as a flock of pigeons took off from the roof of the building. One smacked into the win-dowpane, inches away from her nose.
She jumped back, gasping, and clutched the high neckline of her dress. She laughed at her unaccustomed jitters. A dog barked from down the road, piercing the eerie silence of the Maria Kip Orphanage. The hair on Nina's arms stood at attention, prickling her skin. The morning waited as if holding its breath.
Shaking her head at her foolishness, Nina slipped her feet into slippers. Her nerves were raw, her body tired. Last night, two of the teenage boys apparently didn't understand the rule of lights out. She still needed to take them to task about keeping the younger children awake by casting hand puppet shadows on the wall.
She chalked off her uneasy feeling to the past three days of unseasonably warm weather. Already a faint sheen of perspiration dotted her upper lip. With a sigh, she took a step toward the door.
The earth groaned. The floor bucked under her. Grasping the bedpost, she fought to keep her footing while her gaze locked on the clock, which read 5:13 a.m. She counted seconds, focusing on her heartbeat and breathing. Earthquakes weren't uncommon in California and often stopped within seconds. There was no need for alarm.
Her wood-framed mirror crashed to the floor, littering the polished planks with shards of glass. Her prized camera swung from a hook on the wall like the pendulum of a clock. The drawers of her dresser bounced open. A crack the width of her hand split the wall. This was no ordinary earthquake.
Plaster rained down, coating her hair and shoulders with powdered flecks. Nausea rose in her stomach, just as it did when she rode the ferry. The trembling eased, then commenced with a vengeance. Her wrought-iron bed bounced away from the wall.
From the other rooms, screams and cries rent the air. The children!
How would only two women get all one hundred and twenty-five of them to safety when the floor heaved beneath their feet like a horse unaccustomed to a saddle? The movement was short and choppy like the waves of the sea, crisscrossed by a tide as mighty as a tsunami. God, help them.
Nina dashed for the door with the grace of a drunken sailor. She clutched the doorjamb, using its frame as protection, and kept her eyes glued on the second hand of the clock. Anything to take her mind away from the roaring around her. A sound like waves crashing against the cliffs filled her head with its pounding.
In the hall, Mrs. Fox, the superintendent, rushed from room to room, restoring order and issuing directions. The only clue to the woman's panic was her pale face and her hair, which was slapped sloppily into a bun. "To the yard, children. Grab your clothes and hurry, please. Older ones help the younger ones get outside." Her efficient, clipped manner soothed Nina's frazzled nerves and brought her to her senses.
This wasn't the first earthquake she'd endured. She needed to help. The children needed rescuing.
She abandoned her place of safety under the door's frame, wishing the other employees of the orphanage didn't have nights off. Of course a disaster of this magnitude would happen when there were only two adults supervising.
A horrific rumble roared from the front of the building as she ran down the hall. She glanced over her shoulder as the front end of the building collapsed into the street. A cloud of dust plumed, obscuring her vision and clogging her throat. She choked back a scream as the chimney followed, raining red brick across the lawn.
They were going to die.
Forty-five seconds later, to the best of Nina's counting, the shaking stopped. She wiped tears from her face as the children's screams turned to wails. Nina scooped a toddler into her arms, then followed the orphans as they banged down the stairs and rushed outside.
Tears smeared Mrs. Fox's white-dusted face, and she lifted clasped hands toward heaven. "All accounted for, praise God."
Sobs blocked Nina's throat. They were lucky. She laid a kiss on the child she held, then passed the little girl off to an older child. "No injuries?"
"A few bumps from falling plaster, nothing serious. God is with us." Mrs. Fox clapped her hands. "Gather around, children." Like a flock of baby chicks, they crowded close, dirty faces turned in her direction. "We must give thanks to God for His protection."
From the corner of her eye, Nina noticed two teenage boys skulking to the back of the building. What were the rascals up to now? She followed. "Johnny?"
The tallest one shook his head, grabbed a dangling water pipe, and swung upward, scrabbling with the skill of a monkey to the second floor. His companion, towheaded Daniel, quickly followed suit. Within seconds, quilts, cots and personal treasures hit the ground, littering the once beautiful flower garden.
"Come down this instant!" Nina planted her fists on her hips. "The building isn't safe." Her heart lodged in her throat. Any moment now the floor would give way and they'd be lost.
Johnny stuck his head out the window. "Not until I get my little brother some pants. He can't roam around the city in a nightgown."
"Please, hurry." Nina bit her lip as the house creaked and groaned. Surely, it would fall on their heads.
Clutching a pair of brown woolen britches in one hand, Johnny shimmied down the pipe, Daniel in close pursuit.
When they hit the ground, Nina grabbed them each by an arm. "What possessed you to do something so dangerous? You scared the wits out of me."
"More than the earthquake?" A dimple winked in Johnny's cheek. "I had to get Sam's pants, Miss Hansen. He looks like a girl in his nightgown." He pulled her camera from beneath his oversize shirt and presented it to her with a grin. "I also thought you might want this."
Nina grabbed him close and ruffled his hair. He'd thought not only of his brother, but of her. Fresh tears stung the backs of her eyes. How could she stay mad at such a fearless softhearted young man? The fifteen-year-old was old enough to be on his own, making a living any way he could in San Francisco, but no one had the heart to send him away, despite his tendency to break rules.
"Thank you." She hung her camera around her neck. "This means a lot to me."
His grin faded. "I saw smoke rising south of Market Street. You can see quite a ways from the second floor."
Panic spasmed in her chest. "Fires?"
"Yes, ma'am. Looks like spot fires dotted all over San Francisco. They'll be spreading fast." He whirled and dashed to his younger brother's side.
Nina approached Mrs. Fox. "Did you hear?"
The woman cast a nervous glance down the street. "Yes. We need to get the children to the ferry. We'll take them to Ross Valley over in Marin County."
The ground shuddered under her. Nina grabbed Mrs. Fox's arm. Another wall crumbled and clattered to the ground. A second earthquake?
Nina's blood ran cold. "I think the sooner the better."
In single file, with Mrs. Fox in the front and Nina behind, they and the children set out into the heart of San Francisco. Buildings leaned against each other, knocked off their foundations, like people who had drunk too much. Geysers gushed from broken water mains, flooding the streets. Nina forced back the bile rising in her throat and clutched the hand of the nearest child. They'd be all right. God wouldn't let them survive the quake to allow harm to come to them now.
Sergeant Jacob Taft took a deep breath of salty sea air and shook off the lingering effects of the earthquake. He should've gone straight to Fort Mason, but couldn't deny his morning ritual of watching the sun rise over the Pacific. The beach always soothed him. The fearsome lapping of the waves slowly subsided.
He was days away from being a civilian again. Now he suspected his enlistment would be extended.
Footsteps pounded behind him. Jacob stood at attention, awaiting orders, the morning's calm as destroyed as the city behind him.
"Permission to speak, sir!"
Without turning, Jacob nodded. "Granted." He'd known as soon as the earthquake hit that his furlough was over.
"General Funston has ordered the First Battalion to move into the city to guard federal property and assist the local police in keeping order, sir!"
Jacob turned to address the sergeant beside him. "How did you know where to find me?"
"You are here every morning, sir. Furlough or not."
Jacob shrugged. His habits were no secret. "What about the fort?" With the fires dotting the landscape, Fort Mason would be in danger, as well.
"A small contingent of men will stay behind. General Funston is setting up a refugee camp at the Golden Gate Park and another at the Presidio. He requested you be at the Golden Gate camp by sundown to establish order."
"What about the fires? We can help fight them." He clenched his fists, stuffing his fear of fires into the deepest part of him. Now was not the time to succumb to matters of his own.
"He said nothing in regards to fighting fires, sir." The man saluted.
Jacob nodded and waited until the sergeant retreated before releasing a sigh. In charge of a refugee camp? He shuddered and headed to his barracks. He was the last person to be responsible for a multitude of hurting people. He'd failed to keep his family of three safe. How could he watch over thousands?
After pulling a rucksack from his locker, Jacob tossed in a change of uniform and an ammunition box. He grabbed his rifle, fastened the bayonet, then marched outside and joined the First Battalion of Army Engineers.
Captain Walker paced, hands clasped behind his back. "The fire department is unequipped to deal with the fires breaking out. Gas pipes have burst and water mains ruptured. The fire is rapidly engulfing the city. Panic and looting will be rampant. Men, report to chief of police at the Hall of Justice. He will give you further orders. Commence."
What about General Funston's orders? Jacob took his place at the front of the line and led the men into the city, torn between orders to keep the peace and the need to help stop the fires from engulfing the city.
He marched down Van Ness Avenue, past Saint Mary's Cathedral, heading toward a thousand-foot plume of smoke rising above the city's buildings. Within hours, the smaller fires would converge and become one raging inferno, devouring everything in its path.
He forced his heart to remain impassive, keeping his eyes forward, not focusing on the streams of people flooding the streets, or the wounded and dying lying in the gutters and under the debris. Orders were orders. The acrid smell of dust from the rubble and burned wood stung his nostrils. He increased the pace. Once they received orders to do so, then, and only then, could they stop and help those they were sent to aid.
By 7 a.m., amidst rousing cheers from a crowd happy to see them, they stood while Chief of Police Duke relayed his plan of action. "Two men per block will patrol the streets. Shoot any person caught looting or committing any serious misdemeanor. No cooking inside of dwellings. Order people to cook in the street. We cannot take the chance of more fires. Not until each home is checked for gas leaks. Some of you have been issued instructions to man refugee camps. Others are ordered to remain in the city. If you have not received a direct order, then use your judgment where you are needed most. The spread of fire is our biggest concern. Use force, if necessary, to convince the civilians to help." The man squared his shoulders. "General Funston has agreed we are to use you in any way we see fit. Fighting fires and maintaining control is where I see the greatest need. Dismissed and may God go with you."
"I heard they let the prisoners go," a man in the crowd reported. "With only the worst cases being sent to San Quentin."
"A body isn't safe on the streets," a woman cried. "Thank goodness the army is here to protect us."
Jacob didn't know how a few hundred men against hundreds of thousands of civilians could warrant protection around the clock, but he'd do his best. He accepted a paper thrust into his hands, then made his way to the steps of the Hall. Keeping his face impassive, he read aloud, "Refugee camps will be set up at the Presidio and Golden Gate Park. The Salvationists have several stations throughout the city where you can obtain food and water. Please do not loiter in the city."
While cries of outrage filled the air, he made his way back to the street and began assigning blocks for his men to patrol. He took the block around the government buildings, and snagged two men. "Clear these structures of all documents and transport them to the base. Recruit civilians to help if need be. Everyone pitches in. If they don't want to help, order them to the camps."
"Yes, sir!" The private saluted and dashed off.
Jacob shook his head at the futility of it all. Guarding walls of wood and stone while injured people lined the streets. He had joined the army to protect, not patrol streets full of people refusing to leave after a disaster of this earthquake's magnitude.
"To the camps!" he ordered the nonmilitary onlookers. "If not, start clearing the streets of brick and debris." A group of men stepped forward. "We'll help."
Then one by one, or in pairs, other men stepped forward offering their services.
Jacob nodded, doing his best to keep his emotions from showing on his face, while his heart marveled at the men's willingness to help. Surely, they had lost everything in the quake. "And your help will be greatly appreciated. We need the streets cleared. Any opposition, let one of my men know."
Two women, escorting a long line of children in assorted articles of clothing, passed by. The tall, willowy, strawberry-blonde woman glanced Jacob's way. Shadowed blue eyes peered from a face covered in dirt. Still, she was beautiful. Their gazes locked. She nodded in his direction and steered a young boy back into place.
Jacob's shoulders slumped. Orphans left without a home like so many other San Franciscans.
The ground rumbled under his feet, like a giant beast complaining of hunger pangs. Mortar and plaster fell from the remaining buildings, increasing the danger to the milling citizens. The blonde fell to her knees, and Jacob darted forward, folding his body over her and the boy she guarded. To the woman's credit, she didn't scream as an aftershock toppled most of the still-standing structures.
Jacob held the woman tighter, catching a whiff of lavender and vanilla over the odor of dust. He couldn't help but notice how right she felt in his arms, as if she were made to be there. He shook off the notion and glanced up as a chimney fell, crushing two of the men who'd volunteered just moments before. Poor souls. It wasn't a fitting end to men who had only wanted to help. Dust coated the people around them and caked Jacob's eyes. A fierce roaring filled his ears, along with the screams of the children. He wanted to cover them all, protect them from this hell. At least one child and a brave woman was better than none.
Something smacked his shoulder with a bone-jarring thud. Jacob grunted against the impact. Nothing felt broken, but he knew he'd sport a multitude of bruises for a few days.
Seconds later, the aftershock stopped, and Jacob stood to his feet and surveyed his surroundings. People emerged from doorways where they'd taken...
Nina Hansen fastened the last button on her dress and slipped her feet into her shoes. Smiling, she glanced out her bedroom window. Just as a flock of pigeons took off from the roof of the building. One smacked into the win-dowpane, inches away from her nose.
She jumped back, gasping, and clutched the high neckline of her dress. She laughed at her unaccustomed jitters. A dog barked from down the road, piercing the eerie silence of the Maria Kip Orphanage. The hair on Nina's arms stood at attention, prickling her skin. The morning waited as if holding its breath.
Shaking her head at her foolishness, Nina slipped her feet into slippers. Her nerves were raw, her body tired. Last night, two of the teenage boys apparently didn't understand the rule of lights out. She still needed to take them to task about keeping the younger children awake by casting hand puppet shadows on the wall.
She chalked off her uneasy feeling to the past three days of unseasonably warm weather. Already a faint sheen of perspiration dotted her upper lip. With a sigh, she took a step toward the door.
The earth groaned. The floor bucked under her. Grasping the bedpost, she fought to keep her footing while her gaze locked on the clock, which read 5:13 a.m. She counted seconds, focusing on her heartbeat and breathing. Earthquakes weren't uncommon in California and often stopped within seconds. There was no need for alarm.
Her wood-framed mirror crashed to the floor, littering the polished planks with shards of glass. Her prized camera swung from a hook on the wall like the pendulum of a clock. The drawers of her dresser bounced open. A crack the width of her hand split the wall. This was no ordinary earthquake.
Plaster rained down, coating her hair and shoulders with powdered flecks. Nausea rose in her stomach, just as it did when she rode the ferry. The trembling eased, then commenced with a vengeance. Her wrought-iron bed bounced away from the wall.
From the other rooms, screams and cries rent the air. The children!
How would only two women get all one hundred and twenty-five of them to safety when the floor heaved beneath their feet like a horse unaccustomed to a saddle? The movement was short and choppy like the waves of the sea, crisscrossed by a tide as mighty as a tsunami. God, help them.
Nina dashed for the door with the grace of a drunken sailor. She clutched the doorjamb, using its frame as protection, and kept her eyes glued on the second hand of the clock. Anything to take her mind away from the roaring around her. A sound like waves crashing against the cliffs filled her head with its pounding.
In the hall, Mrs. Fox, the superintendent, rushed from room to room, restoring order and issuing directions. The only clue to the woman's panic was her pale face and her hair, which was slapped sloppily into a bun. "To the yard, children. Grab your clothes and hurry, please. Older ones help the younger ones get outside." Her efficient, clipped manner soothed Nina's frazzled nerves and brought her to her senses.
This wasn't the first earthquake she'd endured. She needed to help. The children needed rescuing.
She abandoned her place of safety under the door's frame, wishing the other employees of the orphanage didn't have nights off. Of course a disaster of this magnitude would happen when there were only two adults supervising.
A horrific rumble roared from the front of the building as she ran down the hall. She glanced over her shoulder as the front end of the building collapsed into the street. A cloud of dust plumed, obscuring her vision and clogging her throat. She choked back a scream as the chimney followed, raining red brick across the lawn.
They were going to die.
Forty-five seconds later, to the best of Nina's counting, the shaking stopped. She wiped tears from her face as the children's screams turned to wails. Nina scooped a toddler into her arms, then followed the orphans as they banged down the stairs and rushed outside.
Tears smeared Mrs. Fox's white-dusted face, and she lifted clasped hands toward heaven. "All accounted for, praise God."
Sobs blocked Nina's throat. They were lucky. She laid a kiss on the child she held, then passed the little girl off to an older child. "No injuries?"
"A few bumps from falling plaster, nothing serious. God is with us." Mrs. Fox clapped her hands. "Gather around, children." Like a flock of baby chicks, they crowded close, dirty faces turned in her direction. "We must give thanks to God for His protection."
From the corner of her eye, Nina noticed two teenage boys skulking to the back of the building. What were the rascals up to now? She followed. "Johnny?"
The tallest one shook his head, grabbed a dangling water pipe, and swung upward, scrabbling with the skill of a monkey to the second floor. His companion, towheaded Daniel, quickly followed suit. Within seconds, quilts, cots and personal treasures hit the ground, littering the once beautiful flower garden.
"Come down this instant!" Nina planted her fists on her hips. "The building isn't safe." Her heart lodged in her throat. Any moment now the floor would give way and they'd be lost.
Johnny stuck his head out the window. "Not until I get my little brother some pants. He can't roam around the city in a nightgown."
"Please, hurry." Nina bit her lip as the house creaked and groaned. Surely, it would fall on their heads.
Clutching a pair of brown woolen britches in one hand, Johnny shimmied down the pipe, Daniel in close pursuit.
When they hit the ground, Nina grabbed them each by an arm. "What possessed you to do something so dangerous? You scared the wits out of me."
"More than the earthquake?" A dimple winked in Johnny's cheek. "I had to get Sam's pants, Miss Hansen. He looks like a girl in his nightgown." He pulled her camera from beneath his oversize shirt and presented it to her with a grin. "I also thought you might want this."
Nina grabbed him close and ruffled his hair. He'd thought not only of his brother, but of her. Fresh tears stung the backs of her eyes. How could she stay mad at such a fearless softhearted young man? The fifteen-year-old was old enough to be on his own, making a living any way he could in San Francisco, but no one had the heart to send him away, despite his tendency to break rules.
"Thank you." She hung her camera around her neck. "This means a lot to me."
His grin faded. "I saw smoke rising south of Market Street. You can see quite a ways from the second floor."
Panic spasmed in her chest. "Fires?"
"Yes, ma'am. Looks like spot fires dotted all over San Francisco. They'll be spreading fast." He whirled and dashed to his younger brother's side.
Nina approached Mrs. Fox. "Did you hear?"
The woman cast a nervous glance down the street. "Yes. We need to get the children to the ferry. We'll take them to Ross Valley over in Marin County."
The ground shuddered under her. Nina grabbed Mrs. Fox's arm. Another wall crumbled and clattered to the ground. A second earthquake?
Nina's blood ran cold. "I think the sooner the better."
In single file, with Mrs. Fox in the front and Nina behind, they and the children set out into the heart of San Francisco. Buildings leaned against each other, knocked off their foundations, like people who had drunk too much. Geysers gushed from broken water mains, flooding the streets. Nina forced back the bile rising in her throat and clutched the hand of the nearest child. They'd be all right. God wouldn't let them survive the quake to allow harm to come to them now.
Sergeant Jacob Taft took a deep breath of salty sea air and shook off the lingering effects of the earthquake. He should've gone straight to Fort Mason, but couldn't deny his morning ritual of watching the sun rise over the Pacific. The beach always soothed him. The fearsome lapping of the waves slowly subsided.
He was days away from being a civilian again. Now he suspected his enlistment would be extended.
Footsteps pounded behind him. Jacob stood at attention, awaiting orders, the morning's calm as destroyed as the city behind him.
"Permission to speak, sir!"
Without turning, Jacob nodded. "Granted." He'd known as soon as the earthquake hit that his furlough was over.
"General Funston has ordered the First Battalion to move into the city to guard federal property and assist the local police in keeping order, sir!"
Jacob turned to address the sergeant beside him. "How did you know where to find me?"
"You are here every morning, sir. Furlough or not."
Jacob shrugged. His habits were no secret. "What about the fort?" With the fires dotting the landscape, Fort Mason would be in danger, as well.
"A small contingent of men will stay behind. General Funston is setting up a refugee camp at the Golden Gate Park and another at the Presidio. He requested you be at the Golden Gate camp by sundown to establish order."
"What about the fires? We can help fight them." He clenched his fists, stuffing his fear of fires into the deepest part of him. Now was not the time to succumb to matters of his own.
"He said nothing in regards to fighting fires, sir." The man saluted.
Jacob nodded and waited until the sergeant retreated before releasing a sigh. In charge of a refugee camp? He shuddered and headed to his barracks. He was the last person to be responsible for a multitude of hurting people. He'd failed to keep his family of three safe. How could he watch over thousands?
After pulling a rucksack from his locker, Jacob tossed in a change of uniform and an ammunition box. He grabbed his rifle, fastened the bayonet, then marched outside and joined the First Battalion of Army Engineers.
Captain Walker paced, hands clasped behind his back. "The fire department is unequipped to deal with the fires breaking out. Gas pipes have burst and water mains ruptured. The fire is rapidly engulfing the city. Panic and looting will be rampant. Men, report to chief of police at the Hall of Justice. He will give you further orders. Commence."
What about General Funston's orders? Jacob took his place at the front of the line and led the men into the city, torn between orders to keep the peace and the need to help stop the fires from engulfing the city.
He marched down Van Ness Avenue, past Saint Mary's Cathedral, heading toward a thousand-foot plume of smoke rising above the city's buildings. Within hours, the smaller fires would converge and become one raging inferno, devouring everything in its path.
He forced his heart to remain impassive, keeping his eyes forward, not focusing on the streams of people flooding the streets, or the wounded and dying lying in the gutters and under the debris. Orders were orders. The acrid smell of dust from the rubble and burned wood stung his nostrils. He increased the pace. Once they received orders to do so, then, and only then, could they stop and help those they were sent to aid.
By 7 a.m., amidst rousing cheers from a crowd happy to see them, they stood while Chief of Police Duke relayed his plan of action. "Two men per block will patrol the streets. Shoot any person caught looting or committing any serious misdemeanor. No cooking inside of dwellings. Order people to cook in the street. We cannot take the chance of more fires. Not until each home is checked for gas leaks. Some of you have been issued instructions to man refugee camps. Others are ordered to remain in the city. If you have not received a direct order, then use your judgment where you are needed most. The spread of fire is our biggest concern. Use force, if necessary, to convince the civilians to help." The man squared his shoulders. "General Funston has agreed we are to use you in any way we see fit. Fighting fires and maintaining control is where I see the greatest need. Dismissed and may God go with you."
"I heard they let the prisoners go," a man in the crowd reported. "With only the worst cases being sent to San Quentin."
"A body isn't safe on the streets," a woman cried. "Thank goodness the army is here to protect us."
Jacob didn't know how a few hundred men against hundreds of thousands of civilians could warrant protection around the clock, but he'd do his best. He accepted a paper thrust into his hands, then made his way to the steps of the Hall. Keeping his face impassive, he read aloud, "Refugee camps will be set up at the Presidio and Golden Gate Park. The Salvationists have several stations throughout the city where you can obtain food and water. Please do not loiter in the city."
While cries of outrage filled the air, he made his way back to the street and began assigning blocks for his men to patrol. He took the block around the government buildings, and snagged two men. "Clear these structures of all documents and transport them to the base. Recruit civilians to help if need be. Everyone pitches in. If they don't want to help, order them to the camps."
"Yes, sir!" The private saluted and dashed off.
Jacob shook his head at the futility of it all. Guarding walls of wood and stone while injured people lined the streets. He had joined the army to protect, not patrol streets full of people refusing to leave after a disaster of this earthquake's magnitude.
"To the camps!" he ordered the nonmilitary onlookers. "If not, start clearing the streets of brick and debris." A group of men stepped forward. "We'll help."
Then one by one, or in pairs, other men stepped forward offering their services.
Jacob nodded, doing his best to keep his emotions from showing on his face, while his heart marveled at the men's willingness to help. Surely, they had lost everything in the quake. "And your help will be greatly appreciated. We need the streets cleared. Any opposition, let one of my men know."
Two women, escorting a long line of children in assorted articles of clothing, passed by. The tall, willowy, strawberry-blonde woman glanced Jacob's way. Shadowed blue eyes peered from a face covered in dirt. Still, she was beautiful. Their gazes locked. She nodded in his direction and steered a young boy back into place.
Jacob's shoulders slumped. Orphans left without a home like so many other San Franciscans.
The ground rumbled under his feet, like a giant beast complaining of hunger pangs. Mortar and plaster fell from the remaining buildings, increasing the danger to the milling citizens. The blonde fell to her knees, and Jacob darted forward, folding his body over her and the boy she guarded. To the woman's credit, she didn't scream as an aftershock toppled most of the still-standing structures.
Jacob held the woman tighter, catching a whiff of lavender and vanilla over the odor of dust. He couldn't help but notice how right she felt in his arms, as if she were made to be there. He shook off the notion and glanced up as a chimney fell, crushing two of the men who'd volunteered just moments before. Poor souls. It wasn't a fitting end to men who had only wanted to help. Dust coated the people around them and caked Jacob's eyes. A fierce roaring filled his ears, along with the screams of the children. He wanted to cover them all, protect them from this hell. At least one child and a brave woman was better than none.
Something smacked his shoulder with a bone-jarring thud. Jacob grunted against the impact. Nothing felt broken, but he knew he'd sport a multitude of bruises for a few days.
Seconds later, the aftershock stopped, and Jacob stood to his feet and surveyed his surroundings. People emerged from doorways where they'd taken...
"About this title" may belong to another edition of this title.
- PublisherLove Inspired Heartsong Presents
- Publication date2015
- ISBN 10 0373487754
- ISBN 13 9780373487752
- BindingMass Market Paperback
- Number of pages192
- Rating
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The Soldier's Redemption
Published by
Love Inspired Heartsong Presents
(2015)
ISBN 10: 0373487754
ISBN 13: 9780373487752
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Mass Market Paperback
Quantity: 1
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