Daughter of Twin Oaks (11 page)

When she held out the bread and cheese, he took it, his hand shaking so the bread almost fell to the floor. With a quick hand for his advancing years, Reuben handed the bread back without looking the man in the face.

“Here you goes, suh.”

When the soldier failed to say anything, Louisa frowned at him and smiled at Reuben. “Thank you. Some of us seem to have forgotten our manners.”

A hoot from the men around him made the culprit flush and stop chewing long enough to mumble, “Sorry. Thank you, boy.”

“His name is Reuben, and he is far too old and valuable to be a boy.” The ice in her voice cooled the air around them by several degrees. She waited, one slipper tapping the floor, counting the seconds.

It took more time than she’d liked, making her wonder if her strictness with these wounded men made any difference in the way they thought.

“Ah, Frank, give in.”

“Now, you dumb—” At the collective gasp, the remonstrator cut off the rest of his sentence, earning him a smile from their angel. While she was on the floor, they all knew she tolerated no swearing, crude language, or cruelty in general. Her method of punishment to those intrepid cursers changed many minds. She just ignored them, walking by as if they did not exist.

By the time she and Reuben had circled the room, one of the doctors arrived, along with an assistant who helped change the dressings. While they started at one end, she waved good-bye to her helper and started at the other end, this time with a basin of warm water, washcloth, soap, and a towel. Those who could wash their own hands and faces did. The others received her gentle touch with sighs of appreciation.

“I heard you know how to shave a feller,” one of her men said, raising both his hands swathed in bandages.

“I do, but it will be some time before I can get back.”

“No problem, Miz Highwood. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

She smiled at his gentle joke. “Not today, but soon.”

“Home? You think they might send me home?”

“That’d be my surmise, but the doctor there has the last say.” No one without usable hands would be sent back to the fighting, that she knew for certain, and from the looks of him, this young man, a boy really, would be going home soon. They needed his bed for those much worse off than he. Her gaze wandered over to the man who had yet to regain consciousness. The doctor would be seeing him next.

What was there about him that drew her? She ignored the puzzlement and eased her way to stand by the foot of his bed.

“How are you today, Miz Highwood?” The physician stopped beside her, studying her face. “Child, how long since you’ve taken a day off?”

“Oh, last week, I think.” She shot him a piercing look. “How about you?”

“Last week. Must have been last week.” His smile and headshaking said he knew they were both lying. He patted her shoulder and turned to the patient, who showed no signs of impatience at the wait, unlike some of the others.

Louisa screwed up her courage. “Do you know anything about him?”

Dr. Fremont shook his head. “No, he had no identification and hasn’t been able to answer questions. I was hoping he would be conscious by now, but then maybe this is better. At least he isn’t feeling any pain, and with those wounds, the pain would be severe.” He picked up the man’s hand and checked the pulse. “His heart is strong. He’s goin’ to need that.”

Louisa studied the man in the bed, what she could see of him. She promised herself to come back later because, conscious or not, warm water on his hands and face would feel good. And getting the blood washed off him would make her feel good. Knowing that the doctor would not tend his patient until she left the bedside, she returned to her errands of mercy, and the next time she looked up, the doctor and his assistant had left the ward.

With all of her men washed and some sleeping again, she searched out the razor she’d hidden away behind some boxes and filled her pan with hot water again. The razor needed stropping to get an edge back on it, but she hadn’t found a suitable leather strap at Aunt Sylvania’s. Short of asking Reuben to buy one for her, she’d made do up until now.

“I know this is dull, so if you’d rather wait …” She shrugged and raised her eyebrows as she spoke.

“Ah, she at least won’t cut your throat and might get the worst off,” the man in the next bed advised. “I could do it but …” He pointed to his bandaged eye.

“That’s all right. I trusts her.” The man lay back and raised his chin.

Louisa used the cloth to rub the soap so she could lather his face. The act brought back a vision of her father standing in front of a mirror in his bedroom, the brush in his hand full of lather, the razor glinting in the early morning sunlight. Her nose wrinkled at the memory. The soap had smelled nothing like this, and a rag didn’t lather like the brush that fit in the mug designed just for that purpose.

Father, where are you? And where is Zachary? Is someone helping Zachary this morning?

She bent to her task, the rasp of the razor against the whiskers sounding loud, as if all the men were waiting with held-in breath to see if she would draw blood. With the razor she was using, it wasn’t a case of
if
, but
when
.

By the time she’d finished, she had said “I’m sorry” so often that each new protestation brought chuckles that swelled to laughter from those around. If they only knew how good it made her feel to hear them laugh, even if it was at her expense.

She wiped off the remaining lather, shook her head at the leftover stubble, and stepped back.

“Looks to me like a rat been chewin’ on ’im.” One of the men who’d graduated to crutches offered his opinion from the foot of the bed.

“Thank you, Sergeant Arthur. Next time you can do the honors.”

“Next time I’ll make sure that razor got an edge on it. Give it here, and I’ll take care of it.”

“Now, why didn’t you say that before?” Louisa picked up her pan of soapy water, draping the towel over her arm.

“You didn’t ask.”

She rolled her eyes and pushed on past him. “Tomorrow you’re in charge of shavin’.”

“Miz Highwood, you gonna read to us again?” The question came from another who could no longer see.

“Yes, that I am. Right now, as a matter of fact.” She knew that if she didn’t sit down fairly soon, she might just fall down.

By the time she headed for home in the evening dusk, her back ached, her feet felt like she’d walked miles, which she had, and the man in bed seventeen still hadn’t awakened.

Chapter Eleven

Western Kentucky

September 25, 1862

“Jesse, me go home.”

Jesselynn picked up her little brother and hugged him close. “I know. I want to go home too.”

Thaddeus patted her cheeks with both of his hands. “Then go.” He turned to grin up at Meshach. “We goin’ home.” The smile lit up his face, and he laid his cheek against his sister’s. “Go home now.”

Jesselynn first tried to swallow the boulder blocking her throat, then at least swallow around it.
Home, where the hip bath can be filled with hot lavender-scented water, and I can soak for a week, then sleep in my own soft bed until I feel like waking up. Where Lucinda or one of the others will bring me coffee or tea in bed if I so desire, where the doves will coo in the tree outside my window and I can hear the horses whinny on their way to the track
.

She hid her smarting eyes in Thaddy’s shoulder and rocked from one foot to the other, crooning under her breath.
Home… oh, Lord, I want to go home
. A shudder started in her heels and worked its way up until she clenched her teeth. All she had to do was tell Meshach to turn the horses around and head back to Twin Oaks. She clamped her teeth shut and her arms around Thaddeus. The words bubbled in her head and up her throat.
Home, let’s go home
.

“Ow! Jesse, you hurtin’ me.” The boy leaned back and stared into his sister’s eyes. He patted her cheek again. “You cryin’?”

She shook her head and, setting him down, rubbed the corner of her eye. “Just got a speck of dirt in my eye, that’s all. You go on and help Ophelia find firewood so we can have breakfast.”

“Home?”

“Someday.” The look of such utter sadness that he sent her before he trudged off behind Ophelia made her swallow hard again. Like their father, Thaddeus could say more with one glance than most people could with their mouths in an hour.

Home
, she thought as she settled down to sleep some time later.
Home…sometimes I wonder if I ever even lived there or if I made it all up
.

“Thaddeus. Thaddeus!”

The sound of Ophelia calling brought Jesselynn awake long before she was ready.

“Thaddeus!” Meshach had joined her.

Jesselynn rolled out of bed and slid into her boots in a motion getting smooth with practice. She grabbed her hat on the way out from under the wagon and jogged to the edge of the woods, listening for another shout.

If Thaddy is lost, I’ll never forgive myself. What happened?
“What happened?” Jesselynn grabbed a sobbing Ophelia by the arm as soon as she found her.

“I was … I was … oh, Marse Jesse, he be gone. Thaddy be gone. Dey snatch him away.”

“Who? What?” Jesselynn gave the keening woman a shake. “Tell me, Ophelia! Tell me what happened.” She could hear the others calling in the woods.

“How long ago?”

Ophelia shrugged. “I … he was right beside me, then gone. Lawsy, our boy be lost. Oh, Lawd, help us find ’im. Please, Lawd.”

“Thaddeus Joshua Highwood, come out wherever you are.”
He can’t be lost. He must think we are playing a game
. But no matter how hard she listened, he didn’t answer.

Meshach made his way through the woods and stopped beside her. “Dis brush be so thick, he could fall in a hole, be anywhere.”

Jesselynn felt like someone had stabbed her in the heart. Not Thaddy, not her baby brother. For all she knew, her only brother. Why had she slept so long? Turning brimming eyes upward, she shook her head. “Not Thaddeus.”

“We find ’im. He not get far.”

“He got farther than we can see, didn’t he? What was Ophelia doing? Taking care of Thaddy is the most important thing she does.”

“She know dat.”

“Could someone have snatched him?”

Meshach shook his head. “Can’t see how. Who? Why? No one know we here.”

Dunlivey
. The name exploded in her head.
Dunlivey
. He would take Thaddy knowing that nothing could hurt her more. But if he’d been there, he’d have taken them all. No, that couldn’t be it.

“We just got to find ’im.”

Jesselynn swallowed hard and sucked in a deep breath. Fainting wouldn’t help, that was for sure, but she felt so light-headed right now, she could float off into the woods. She leaned against a tree trunk. She could hear the others calling his name. They sounded so far away. Surely he couldn’t get that far.

“Thaddeus, the game is over. Come out now!” Her voice didn’t carry beyond her nose. She took another breath and tried again.
God, I’ll do anything you ask. Just keep him safe. Bring him back. Please God, please let us find him
.

“Tha-dde-us!” Better. Taking more air in, she screamed his name.

Meshach walked not ten feet from her, alternating with her, calling the child’s name.

“Shh.” Jesselynn froze. Was her mind playing tricks on her?

“What?” Meshach leaped to her side.

“Shh. Listen.” Benjamin called Thaddy’s name some distance away. Jesselynn froze, wished she could stop her heart. It was making too much noise. She held her breath. Could that be him?

She looked at Meshach, who nodded back. He pointed off to their left.

Together they pushed through the brush, stopping every couple of feet to call and listen.

The child’s crying sounded clearer.

“Thaddeus?”

“Jesse.”

“Call again, baby.”

“Jesse.”

They changed their angle and pushed on. Meshach grabbed her arm before she slid down the embankment. At the bottom lay a badly injured horse with Thaddeus stroking his neck.

“Horse hurt bad.”

“Yes, darlin’, I can see that.” She turned to Meshach. “You got your gun?”

He nodded. “Thank you, Lord, you takes care of our boy.”

Together they made their way down the slope and, when the horse started to thrash, stopped. Jesselynn hunkered down and slipped into her gentle crooning.

“Thaddeus, baby, you come on away from there now. Come to me, baby.”

“Make horse better?” Thaddeus stood. The horse tried to raise his head and knocked the boy over.

“Easy, Thaddy, come on now.” But Thaddeus squatted back down by the horse’s head and began stroking his nose again.

“Good horse. Be good, nice …”

If Jesselynn didn’t know better, she’d have thought it was herself sitting by the downed animal, singing the song that quieted. The horse settled back, a rumble coming from his throat.

“He bad hurt on chest. Legs look all right. Maybe lost too much blood,” Meshach observed.

Jesselynn had been cataloging the injuries while she motioned for Thaddeus to come to her. He shook his head. “Help horse.”

“Yes, Thaddeus, we will help the horse. You come away now.”

“Comin’.” He patted the horse’s nose again and backed away. The horse lay still, but they could see how he watched the small child, as if trusting in his care.

When Thaddeus reached Jesselynn, he patted her cheek. “See horse. He bleedin’. You fix.”

Jesselynn wasn’t sure if she wanted to hug him or wallop him one first. “All we need is a wounded horse.” She shook her head. If she could get Thaddy away, Meshach could put the animal out of its misery.

Slowly Meshach moved in on the animal, all the time singing the same song Jesselynn used so well. He extended a hand for the horse to smell, then sat down in front of it and rubbed up its white blaze. “You one fine-lookin’ horse to be hurt so bad like dis. How we gonna get you outa here?”

Jesselynn groaned. With Thaddy in the circle of her arm, she watched Meshach calm the beast. The blue saddle blanket told them which army the horse belonged to. The carbine was still in the scabbard, the saddlebags tied on behind the army saddle. The rider must have been blown right off his horse.

“How long you think since he was hit?” It looked like the shell had taken half his chest off.

“Day or two. Got to clean dis up, stitch a bit, get ’im some warm water. Sure do wish we had some oats to mash.”

“You want me to send Benjamin for some?” She said it with every ounce of sarcasm she possessed.

Meshach shook his head. “Cornmeal will work.”

Jesselynn groaned.

“Meshach fix.” Thaddy sighed. “Me hungry. Go find ’Phelia.” He stood and started up the bank, but Jesselynn grabbed him before he got more than an arm’s reach away.

“I’ll go with you, young man. You stay with me, you hear?” She looked up to see Ophelia, Benjamin, and Daniel looking down at them, shaking their heads. Tears ran down Ophelia’s face to stop at the smile that cut off their track.

Thaddeus broke away and scrambled up the grade. “Meshach fix horse. Hurt bad. Joshwa hungry.”

Ophelia met him partway, snatched him up, and, clenching him to her bosom, scolded and cried over him all at the same time.

When Jesselynn broke clear of the trees, she expected to see dusk settling, but the sun hadn’t moved that much at all. It just seemed like a lifetime they’d spent hunting for Thaddeus.

Ophelia had him seated on the wagon tailgate, threatening his life if he moved, when Jesselynn reached them.

“Jesse.” He raised his arms to be picked up.

“You just sit there till I get done talkin’ to you.” She shook her finger in front of his nose. “Don’t you ever, you hear me, ever go in the woods by yourself. You stay with me—”

“You was sleepin’.”

“Or Ophelia or Meshach. You do not go off by yourself. Do you understand?” She clipped off each word, using the words to keep from smacking him on the behind—and hugging him to bits.

A finger went in his mouth. His head drooped. He nodded. “Yes.” A sniff drew up his shoulders. “But—”

“No! No ‘but.’ I’ll wallop your butt till you can’t sit down.”

“Thaddy sorry.”

Jesselynn rolled her eyes heavenward. How come he already knew to say sorry? It had taken her forever to learn that. More than one lickin’ as she recalled.

“Thirsty.”

“Yeah, me too.” She scooped him up in her arms and settled him on her hip. “Let’s get a drink.”

“Get horse a drink?”

“Benjamin is doing that.” She hadn’t heard a shot from that general area so she figured they were doctoring the horse. All she needed right now was one more mouth to feed. And one too sick to graze from the look of him. Surely they should just shoot him and get on their way.

Two days passed before Meshach deemed the horse they now called Chess because of his wounds ready for any kind of travel. “Will have to be slow and not go too far.”

Jesselynn just shook her head and swung aboard Ahab. Chess and the filly were tied to the back of the wagon, the scabbard and saddle left where someone was sure to find them. The supplies in the saddlebags had added to their stores, and the gold piece tucked in a small pocket now resided in Jesselynn’s pouch. All in all, they’d gotten good return on their time and caring.

“Keep Chess.” Thaddy stroked the horse’s nose from the wagon bed.

“No, Thaddy. We have enough horses.”

“Chess my horse.”

“Thaddeus Joshua Highwood, listen to me.”

He looked up at her with a smile that came straight from the angels. What could she say?

“We’ll talk about this later.”

Benjamin kicked Domino into a canter in order to do his usual scouting to keep them out of the clutch of soldiers, didn’t matter which color uniform. He waved once and disappeared around a bend in the road.

Jesselynn thought of the crude map the younger man had gotten in one of his scouting forays. According to the map, they were to head south for a time and then pick up a road heading west again. As the days passed, she wished at times they had followed the more heavily traveled road to Louisville, but they had decided against it. The possibility of boarding a keelboat to take them down the Ohio River and onto the Mississippi still carried far more appeal than the overland trek. But they’d have to pass the fort at Cairo, where General Grant was stationed with his army. “Army of the West,” she’d heard it called.

Meshach clucked forward the team consisting of the two mares this time. Daniel rode the mule. Jesselynn glanced over her shoulder at the clearing they were leaving behind. Such a terribly close brush with tragedy. They would have to be more careful, that’s all.