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166 pages

English

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Description

Wanting to do her part in the war effort, Clara McBride goes to work in the cartridge room at the Washington Arsenal, the city's main site for production and storing of munitions. She's given the opportunity to train new employees and forms a friendship with two of them. All seems to be going well, especially when one of the supervisors shows interest in her. Lieutenant Joseph Brady is an injured army officer who, no longer able to lead troops into battle, has been assigned to a supervisory position at the Washington Arsenal. While Clara has caught his eye, he also makes it his mission to fight for increased measures to prevent explosions in the factory.But when suspicions rise after multiple shipments of Washington Arsenal cartridges fail to fire and everyone is suspect for sabotage, can the spark of love between Joseph and Clara survive?

Sujets

Historical romance

Informations

Publié par	Baker Publishing Group
Date de parution	02 juin 2020
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781493425174
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	2 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0461€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Cover
Half Title Page
Books by Judith Miller
The Carousel Painter
The Chapel Car Bride
The Lady of Tarpon Springs
A Perfect Silhouette
A Single Spark
F R E E D O M ’ S P A T H
First Dawn
Morning Sky
Daylight Comes
B E L L S O F L O W E L L *
Daughter of the Loom
A Fragile Design
These Tangled Threads
L I G H T S O F L O W E L L *
A Tapestry of Hope
A Love Woven True
The Pattern of Her Heart
P O S T C A R D S F R O M P U L L M A N
In the Company of Secrets
Whispers Along the Rails
An Uncertain Dream
T H E B R O A D M O O R L E G A C Y *
A Daughter’s Inheritance
An Unexpected Love
A Surrendered Heart
B R I D A L V E I L I S L A N D *
To Have and To Hold
To Love and Cherish
To Honor and Trust
D A U G H T E R S O F A M A N A
Somewhere to Belong
More Than Words
A Bond Never Broken
H O M E T O A M A N A
A Hidden Truth
A Simple Change
A Shining Light
R E F I N E D B Y L O V E
The Brickmaker’s Bride
The Potter’s Lady
The Artisan’s Wife
www.judithmccoymiller.com
*with Tracie Peterson
Title Page
Copyright Page
© 2020 by Judith Miller
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan
www.bakerpublishinggroup.com
Ebook edition created 2020
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
ISBN 978-1-4934-2517-4
Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.
This is a work of historical fiction; the appearances of certain historical figures are therefore inevitable. All other characters, however, are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Cover design by Kirk DouPonce, DogEared Design
Author is represented by Books & Such Literary Agency.
Dedication
For Lori Baney Mattingly, who is always quick to encourage with her loving heart and joyful spirit.
Contents
Cover
Half Title Page
Books by Judith Miller
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Epigraph
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
Author’s Note
About the Author
Back Ads
Back Cover
Epigraph
WAR, AT THE BEST, IS TERRIBLE, AND THIS WAR OF OURS, IN ITS MAGNITUDE AND IN ITS DURATION, IS ONE OF THE MOST TERRIBLE.
—A B R A H A M L I N C O L N
ONE
Washington Arsenal, Washington, D.C. August 1862
Clara McBride carefully counted ten cartridges before dividing them into a double stack of five. Her lips moved as she silently alternated the position of each bullet. Up, down, up, down, up, down . Bright sunshine poured through the high, narrow windows and zigzagged across the room, the warmth enveloping her like a thick, cozy quilt. Up, down, up, down . Both her lips and fingers slowed, the heat and repetition finally lulling her eyes to half-mast.
“Miss McBride!”
Clara jerked to attention. A cartridge slipped to the floor, and gunpowder spilled at her feet. Looking up, she met the harsh gaze of Mr. Grant, the packing room supervisor. A deep frown creased his jowly face as he signaled to one of the young boys near the door. “You’ve lost your ability to concentrate since leaving the packing room, Miss McBride.”
Clara’s cheeks burned as she picked up the cartridge. She didn’t look up, but she could feel the other girls gawping. Those who had been subjected to the same embarrassment would feel pity. Others would revel in the rebuke. The combination of reactions was the same in every section of the Washington Arsenal, where one worker’s misstep could provide a higher-paying position for another. Her own ascension from the packing room had been due to such circumstances.
She mumbled an apology and continued stacking, counting, and packing while wishing she could return to the cylinder room. This was the second time in the past month she’d been required to assist in the packing room, for once trained, the girls would apply for positions in other sections of the laboratory. Rooms where the work wasn’t quite as monotonous, and the supervisor didn’t enjoy berating employees.
“Mr. Grant, a word with you, please.”
The workers glanced over their shoulders toward Lieutenant Brady, who stood in the doorway. When the lieutenant stepped into the packing room, Clara spied Dottie Wilson leaning against the doorjamb. Except for her darting eyes, the young woman remained as still as a statue—until she spotted Clara. In that moment Dottie’s shoulders straightened, and her eyes narrowed in a dark glare.
Clara flinched, her thoughts racing as she attempted to think of any way she might have wronged Dottie. Anything that would have been serious enough to bring the lieutenant into the packing room during the middle of the day. Clara chanced a quick look at Mr. Grant and the lieutenant. Mr. Grant’s face was the pinkish-purple shade Clara had observed during a few of the supervisor’s angry moments in the past. Whatever had happened, there was little doubt it concerned Mr. Grant, Dottie—and Clara.
“Miss McBride, please vacate your position.”
Clara stood and waited until the workers to her right stood and sidestepped their way to the end of the bench. She squeezed around them and moved to Lieutenant Brady’s side.
Mr. Grant gestured to Dottie. “Take her seat, Miss Wilson. I do hope you’re more wide awake than Miss McBride. She created quite a mess for us this morning.”
Dottie smirked at the supervisor’s remark, but the lieutenant turned on his heel at the comment. “If that is truly what happened, Mr. Grant, you should be thanking me for taking her out of the packing room. Why did you argue to keep her here?” Without waiting for a response, the lieutenant escorted Clara from the room.
Clara quickened her step to keep pace with the lieutenant’s long stride. Before they arrived at the door of the cylinder room, he stopped and turned to her. “We have a new employee, a Miss Hodson.” He hesitated. “I don’t recall her full name, but you can inquire after I make introductions. I want you to train her. While she has no experience, since her recent move to Washington, she’s been eager to secure work here at the Arsenal.”
“I enjoy training the new girls, so I’ll do my best.” Clara’s lips curved in a fleeting smile. “May I ask why Dottie—Miss Wilson—was angry with me?”
“She didn’t want to replace you in the packing room and said she could train Miss Hodson.” The lieutenant hiked a shoulder. “That didn’t prove to be true. Her anger is misdirected. I’ll speak to her.”
Clara shook her head. “No, please don’t. I’m sure she’ll be fine once she returns to the cylinder room. There are few who enjoy the packing room.”
“Or Mr. Grant?” He arched a brow.
A soft chuckle escaped Clara’s lips. “That too.”
Clara captured a loose strand of chestnut-brown hair and tucked it behind her ear as she followed the lieutenant to the other side of the room. Miss Hodson sat in the lieutenant’s chair and jumped to her feet as they approached. When the young woman fluttered her eyelashes at the lieutenant, Clara suppressed a gasp and gave him a sideways glance. Did he think the new employee’s behavior charming or unseemly? Or had he even noticed? He’d been at the Arsenal for only a month now and appeared to be more interested in production than charm, although his good looks were often a topic of discussion among the girls who worked in the laboratory. In truth, the young lieutenant frequented Clara’s dreams quite often—a fact that both disturbed and delighted her.
“Miss Hodson, I’d like you to meet Miss Clara McBride. She’s one of the very best employees in the cylinder room. She is well qualified to train new employees in the packing room, filling room, cap cylinder room, and the cylinder room. If you heed her advice, you’ll learn quickly.”
“I’ll do my very best to please you, Lieutenant.” She leaned in as she lifted her head and batted her lashes.
The lieutenant took a backward step. “It’s Miss McBride you need to please. If she finds your work suitable, it will satisfy me.” He looked at Clara. “You can begin your training, but I’d like to speak to you before you depart this evening.”
Clara nodded. No doubt he wanted an explanation about the happenings in the packing room. After his generous comments about her abilities, it would be difficult to tell him she’d nearly fallen asleep at her worktable.
She pushed the thought from her mind and turned to Miss Hodson. “Even though you’ve received some training from Miss Wilson, let’s start at the very beginning.” She glanced toward one of the long tables. “Do you prefer I address you as Miss Hodson?”
The young woman shook her head. “No, please call me Beatrice. And you?”
“Clara. Last names seem far too formal when we’re sitting next to each other all day making bullets to help win the war.” Clara gestured toward the hard wooden benches on one side of the table. She leaned close to Beatrice’s ear. “Our hooped skirts and crinolines make it difficult, but we need as many women as possible working on each side of the bench, so push in as far as possible.”
Beatrice wrinkled her nose. “It’s uncomfortable sitting so close, and there’s no way off the bench without making the others get up. When I had to move, I discovered it irritated some of the ladies. You’d think they would be understanding when someone needs the necessary.”
“You’ll soon discover most of them to be very kind and helpful.” Clara smiled and walked to one end of the table.
“This is the beginning of the process. The women at this sid