"Really," she began angrily, "I've had about enough of this nonsense-"

When his hand tightened, she reacted instinctively. Lifting her foot, she slammed her heel hard against his instep, and was rewarded with instant release and a muffled curse. A guffaw burst from one of the mounted men, but was quickly stifled. Amanda was aware of the amused stares in their direction, and her indignation swelled.

" 'Scuse me, miss," a deeply gruff voice rang out, "but what do you know of Brice's Cross Roads?"

Turning, Amanda saw that the man holding a plumed hat had ridden close to the porch. He leaned on the pommel of his saddle, fixing her with an intense gaze. She stared back, bewildered by another shock of recognition. The small dark beard, the deep-set brooding eyes-where had she seen that face before?

"I-I'm sorry?" she mumbled. "I don't know what you mean…"

"I can say the same, miss. And I'll ask you agin-what do you know of Brice's Cross Roads? Was your husband there?"

"My husband has been dead for over a year." Her words came out in a choked whisper that had nothing to do with Alan's death and everything to do with the growing suspicion that she was being confronted by some kind of weird cult

The bearded man with the plumed hat apparently misunderstood. He nodded gravely. "I'm deeply sorry for your loss, Mrs.-"

Clearing her throat, she interrupted. ' 'Look, I was referring to a battle fought there during the Civil War by Forrest and-" She jerked to a halt. Forrest. That's who this man reminded her of-the drawing she'd seen of Nathan Bedford Forrest. Blinking, she asked, "Are you supposed to be General Forrest?"

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."

Amanda plopped down on a three-legged wooden stool that she had never seen before. Her head was still spinning, and she felt very weak. Plucking at the folds of the borrowed robe, she tried to gather her wits. She retraced her steps of the past hour, from fighting boredom and heat in the bedroom to trying on the gown in the attic. After several moments of silence, she glanced up to find Deborah gazing at her curiously. None of this should be happening. It was too incredible, like something out of a bad movie.

"Are you unwell?" Deborah asked softly, and the question provided Amanda an explanation that sounded plausible.

"Well… I did faint earlier. Perhaps that's why I'm still having trouble making sense of things. Maybe I have a concussion. Or temporary amnesia. That would explain why I don't remember things so well, wouldn't it?" Her voice trailed into hopeful silence.

Deborah took some cups from a cabinet. "Poor thing. It would certainly explain it. Your visit here is quite unexpected, you know. General Washburn evicts ten wives of Confederate officers from Memphis every time our boys fire on one of his men, so I suppose not even widows are safe. Your journey must have been… quite harrowing." She paused delicately, as if waiting for Amanda to elaborate.

Though Amanda knew a response was expected, she had no idea what she could say. After a moment, Deborah continued as if the silence were not at all strained. ' 'Jamie said nothing about your arrival to me before they left to rejoin Forrest, and he is very good about keeping me informed." Deborah gave a slight smile. "If you've been in recent contact with him, you must know that things were rather awkward right after Michael and I were married. I suppose it's only to be expected, as I was betrothed to Jamie at one time, but still, it was a strain. I'm glad it's behind us now."

Amanda could feel her head whirl again. The clue to the reason for her improbable journey had to be hidden in the family feud. But there didn't appear to be a feud. Was she here to prevent one from happening? It took her a moment of silent struggle before she asked hesitantly, "By Jamie, do you mean James?"

Deborah nodded. "Yes. I still call him Jamie, just as I did when we were children. Oh, I shouldn't go on about my own affairs. Not when it's obvious you must have had a dreadful time. I shall give Tangie a proper scold in the morning for not waking me when you arrived. I hope she gave you the guest room, and made certain there are clean linens on the bed. Is everything suitable?"

"Suitable. Yes. Yes, of course." Amanda had no idea what she was saying. She knew a response was expected, but as everything else was so surrealistic, it probably didn't matter what she said. She stood up. "I think I'll go back to bed. Maybe if I go to sleep, when I wake up everything will be normal."

"I hope so. As normal as things can be these days." After a brief silence, Deborah said, "Forgive me, but I'm afraid I never asked your given name. I feel very foolish, for I'm sure that Jamie must have mentioned you at one time or the other, but I fear that I cannot recall it."