Erin's Rebel Read Online Free PDF Page A

future.
    Her gaze rose to the open tent flap. A light breeze waved the canvas back and forth. She rose and poked her head outside. The man had disappeared. She tied the flaps back together, then paced the confined interior.
    Who was he to Erin O’Connell? She didn’t even know his name. But he knew her. She wiped the edge of the quilt across her mouth to erase his rancid taste. She didn’t know if she’d get any more sleep tonight. She just hoped to God he didn’t come back.

 
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Five
     
    “Miss Erin?”
    Erin groaned as the lilting voice pierced through her dream. Or had it been a nightmare? She’d dreamt she was lost in a forest. Men with rifles chased her...
    She rolled over and slid off the narrow bunk. “What the hell?”
    “Miss Erin?”
    She glanced in the direction of the voice. Light slivered through the opening in the canvas. “Oh, no,” she groaned. “I’m still here.” She dragged her aching body from the rug covering the dirt floor. Remembering she only wore a loose cotton chemise, she grabbed the tattered quilt from the floor and wrapped it around her shoulders before unlacing the ties that held the tent closed.
    When she peered out, Brigid’s round face greeted her.
    “I heard a crash,” the Irish cook said. “Are you all right?”
    “Oh...ah...I fell off my bunk.”
    Brigid blinked. She hesitated a moment before saying, “Doc asked me to look in on you to see if yer recollection had come back a’tall.”
    Erin shook her head. Since she seemed to be stuck in this God forsaken time, the loss of memory story would be her only salvation.
    “You’ll be needing help setting up the laundry, then?”
    She nodded. “Ah...yeah.” Brigid had told her she was a laundress. She wondered what doing laundry in this century entailed as she eased out of the tent opening.
    The Irish woman’s gaze dropped. Her face reddened when she stared at Erin’s bare feet. “You’ll be wanting to dress before you come out of there. You don’t want the men in camp to be seeing too much.”
    “Oh.” Erin backed up. “I guess I’ll put something on then.”
    Brigid smiled. “I’ll bring you some kindling for yer fire while yer dressing.”
    “Okay,” Erin called. She studied the dress and petticoats she’d discarded the night before. A fine sheen of dirt covered the clothing. She wanted something clean to put on. Jeans and a tee shirt were what she preferred, but she doubted she’d find those items here.
    Sighing, she reached under the bunk and brought out the trunk. She’d hoped the past day and a half had been a bad dream. But, somehow, she was still here. Well, she could do nothing but get dressed. She needed to uncover more information to discover a way to get back to where she belonged.
    She pulled out a brown calico dress with a starched white collar. Beneath it were two cotton petticoats. How many was she supposed to wear? When undressing last night, she’d found she’d been wearing three. She eyed the white, boned corset. No way was she putting that on.
    By the time she slipped into one of the petticoats, tied it at her waist and settled the dress over her head, Brigid had returned. Erin slid on a pair of stockings, tied on a pair of those flat, stretchy things she’d discovered were garters when she’d undressed last night, and stepped into and laced up her shoes. She lifted the tent flap to find the Irish cook crouched before the fire pit, adding bits of kindling.
    “Do you recall where you left yer matches?”
    “Ah, yes, I think so.” Erin wasn’t sure where she’d tossed the matches after Brigid had helped her locate them on the table in her tent yesterday, but she managed to find the container on the table amid a pile of clothing.
    Reaching into the box, Brigid removed a thin wooden match. She struck it against the log she’d placed in the fire pit yesterday. After the kindling caught, she rose and wiped her plump hands against her apron. “I’ll fetch me