A faint smile curled the man's mouth. "At last muster, 1 was indeed thought to be named such."

She put a hand to her temple to still the steady, dull throb. "This is all so confusing-is it too much to hope that you're just looking for a place to camp for the night?"

"As a matter of fact, we are," the Forrest imitator replied in a weary tone. "But I would surely like to know how you've already heard of the battle at Brice's Cross Roads, for we're still chasin' those Yanks back toward Memphis."

Amanda ignored the suspicion that was fast becoming conviction and said instead, "There's an empty field behind the house where the barns used to be. You can camp there, but clean up your mess afterward, please."

"Excuse me, dear," the soft-voiced woman said at her elbow, "but I think you're confused. Why don't you allow me to fix you a cup of tea and we'll talk?"

"I don't want tea. I don't want to talk. And I'm not confused." Amanda fought a wave of panic. The woman named Deborah was smiling and murmuring what were obviously meant to be reassurances, and Amanda's tension mounted. Had she somehow managed to travel back in time? No, that was impossible. Time travel involved huge machines and mad scientists, or experiments gone awry, not something as normal and mundane as fainting. It just wasn't possible. Was it?

With a hand at her throat, she asked hoarsely, "What day is this?"

Deborah glanced at the man named Jesse, and he gave a terse nod of his head. Looking back at her, Deborah replied softly, "Why, it's June 12."

"And-and the year?"

Even more softly, "1864."

Amanda's head whirled, and her nausea increased. She reached out blindly for something to support herself, and Deborah took her arm as she swayed.

"Captain Jordan," the man she thought must be Forrest said in an authoritative tone, "it looks like this young lady's been recent witness to the violence of battle. Since she's prob'ly even met up with some of the fleeing Yanks, that'd explain her knowledge of our actions. Best let her rest a while."

"I didn't think of that," Deborah was murmuring as she took Amanda by the arm. "Poor thing-you must have been terrified. Tell us where your home is, and we'll try to get you there when you're rested enough."

Amanda managed to rally slightly. "Since I'm a Brandon, I-I suppose I still belong here."

"You're a Brandon?" Jesse Jordan repeated with a skeptical lift of his brows that was infuriating.

"Yes, but you're obviously not-"

Deborah said quickly, "Jesse's my brother from Memphis and not often a visitor here. I'm sorry no one properly greeted you, my dear, but we didn't know you were coming. Jamie never said anything about a relative arriving anytime soon. But you know how it is these days, with communication by post so slow and often impossible."

"That's true enough." Amanda tried to think of something to say that would make sense of a situation that was too fantastic to credit being real, but nothing came to mind. Shrugging, she said, "This is all so unexpected."

"General Forrest," Jesse growled, "I think this young woman should be questioned at length. It's my opinion she's a Yankee sympathizer."

"Yankee? Wait a minute," Amanda said, suddenly afraid she would end up in a Southern prison. "I was born in Holly Springs, even though I live in Memphis now. I'm every bit as much a Southerner as any of you, but-"

"Just a moment," Forrest interrupted. "You say you live in Memphis?"

"Yes. Why?"

He leaned forward, fixing her with a steady stare. "I'm well aware that Union General Washburn has severely restricted citizens' efforts to leave Memphis, save by his permission. How'd you manage to sneak from the city?"

Realizing she'd somehow blundered, Amanda shook her head. "I didn't sneak out at all. I… I just left."

Forrest's gaze shifted from Amanda. "Captain, your pretty relative has given me an idea. I had my doubts about your success in gaining our objective, but now I think there's a way we can do it. Join me for a discussion, while we let the ladies adjourn to the kitchen and fix us anything that resembles coffee."

The captain looked toward Deborah, who nodded and smiled. "I'll see to our guest, Jesse."

"I'm not sure I want to leave you alone with her," he said bluntly.

Amanda started to retort, but Deborah was shaking her head and saying, "If she's a Brandon, she's no threat to any of us, I assure you. I'd stake my life on that."

Jesse's wary blue gaze moved back to Amanda. "It may come down to that. I don't trust her. Holler if you need me."

"Chauvinist," Amanda muttered as Jesse grabbed a lantern and stepped off the porch. She turned to Deborah. ' 'I have no idea what to do next. This is all new to me, and I'm still trying to figure it out, so you'll have to help."

Deborah gave her a rather startled glance and did not reply as she led the way back down the candlelit hallway toward the kitchen. Or toward where the kitchen had once been. A breezeway now connected the kitchen to the main house, not the pantry she was used to.

Amanda stood still for a moment, looking around her. An oil lamp in the middle of a small table shed a rosy pool of light. A cast-iron stove stood in place of the more familiar gas stove, and there was no porcelain sink with or even without its ancient plumbing. Some sort of pump was attached to a deep metal tub that apparently served as the sink. A brick fireplace stood at one end of the kitchen; in it a pot was slung over small flames.

Amanda closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again, hoping it would clear her vision and restore things to normal. No such luck.

"Pay no mind to Jesse," Deborah said as she put a copper kettle on the stove. "He's a bit protective since all those Yankees came through here a few days ago. We'd like to keep Oakleigh intact."

"Oakleigh-" Amanda drew in a deep breath. Oakleigh. Of course. There must be some vital information she needed to know. Maybe that was why-incredible as it might seem-she had somehow traveled back in time. She didn't know how, but if she could find out why, maybe this would all make sense and she could do what she'd obviously been sent back to do. "Are you one of the Brandons or the Scotts?" she asked Deborah.

Deborah gave her a shy smile. "Scott. That's why I'm here at Oakleigh."

Amanda nodded. "All right. That's a start-wait. Deborah-Captain Jordan. Are you Deborah Jordan Scott?"

With a perplexed smile, Deborah nodded. "Why, yes. Is your memory coming back?"

Drawing in a deep breath, Amanda murmured, "Let's just say it's coming in bits and pieces. You're from Memphis, too, then."

"Yes, but I've been in Holly Springs since right after Memphis fell to the Federals. I'm sure you understand why I had to leave Memphis."

"Yes, I think I do. If I remember my history correctly, the wives of Confederate officers were held hostages of a sort against the actions of the Rebel army."

"Well, when I left Memphis, it was before I married Michael. The Federals were well aware of my brother's activities, however, so I was often taken before General Grant to be questioned."

"Grant? I thought it was Washburn-"

"Grant was commanding officer when I was still there. As I said, I've been in Holly Springs since Jesse managed to get me past the sentries out on Pigeon Roost Road."

"Pigeon Roost? I remember-Highway 78 used to be called Pigeon Roost Road because of all the pigeons that roosted in the trees there." Aware that Deborah was looking at her curiously, Amanda shrugged and added hastily, "Your brother must be very adroit at sneaking past sentries."

"Jesse?" Deborah smiled. "He's wonderful. That's why they call him the Hawk-because he can get into and out of places that most men can't."

"The Hawk? He sounds dangerous."

"He is. General Forrest has used him many times to- well, I suppose it's common knowledge, and anyway, we need to fix them some coffee. These discussions can go into the late hours, and the general looked exhausted. No, don't try to help. You look tired, too."