Daughter of Twin Oaks (15 page)

She stuck her hands in her pockets and studied the paper tacked to the wall.

“General Buell Liberates Louisville” was one headline, but most of the page was taken up with Lincoln’s proposed Emancipation Proclamation. She finally allowed herself to read the dead or missing-inaction lists, not breathing until she was positive Zachary Highwood was not listed. Thinking that the man had her order ready by now, she headed back for the general store.

A burst of laughter from the saloon struck her like a fist in the midsection.

Surely no one else on the entire earth laughed like that. Only Cavendar Dunlivey.

Horror tasted like blood on her tongue.

Chapter Sixteen

Richmond, Virginia

“I can explain.” She dropped her voice.

“I’m sure you can, but let me guess. You got bored at Aunt Sylvania’s, and since you’ve always taken care of the wounded, be it bird, beast, or human, you decided to help out here at the military hospital. Only they would never let a young unmarried girl in the door to visit even, let alone care for the sick and dying, so you figured you needed a husband.”

She nodded and looked at him from under her eyelashes. Was that a laugh she heard in his voice?

“But why me?”

“Because they say if you are going to tell a lie, keep as close to the truth as possible. So I just kept my name and added Mrs. Zachary in front of it.” Her whisper was meant for his ears alone.

“So they call you Miz Highwood or Miss Louisa, which?”

“Don’t you think you should take a nap or somethin’? You’re lookin’ mighty weary.”

“It’s wakin’ up to find I have a wife that is wearyin’.”

“You won’t tell anyone, please?”

“Not unless that glowerin’ lieutenant over there decides to beat me to death with his crutches.”

“Zachary Highwood, why I never …” The heat rushed up her neck and over her face so fast it nigh to set her hair on fire.

“I know that, dear Louisa. Now why don’t you get me a drink of that fresh water you went for, and I’ll go back to sleep like a good boy—er, husband.” He clenched her hand for a moment, then groaned. “Never try to yawn with a broken jaw. It hurts like …”

She could tell how bad by the way his hand shook. “I’ll be right back.”

But when she returned with the bucket and dipper, he was sound asleep.

After offering another drink to the men who were awake, Louisa returned to the closet where she kept her things and let the shock of Zachary being here roll over her. Her brother was alive. After the years of prayers and tears, here he was, in her hospital and on her ward, no less. The mercies of the almighty God were far beyond imaginable. If this didn’t qualify as a miracle, what would? Now, if only she could let Jesselynn know right today. Since the war began, letters took so long to get anywhere, and she hadn’t heard from home in far too long. Up to this last month, her sister had been a faithful correspondent.

But she
could
tell Carrie Mae and Aunt Sylvania, and maybe when Zachary was well enough, they could all go home to Twin Oaks. Well, not Carrie Mae, since she would be living in Richmond with her newly wedded husband.

Her thought flickered to the walking rack of bones with the title of lieutenant. He might be handsome with some meat on his frame and a smile on that dour face. He stumped back and forth in front of the window like a sleek painter she’d seen caged once. All she’d thought of was opening the gate and letting the big tawny cat go free.

If only I could give the lieutenant back his leg and let him go free again
.

That
thought sent her scurrying back out with her copy of Shakespeare’s
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
. The tall stool was already set up for her, compliments of the lieutenant, she was sure. Since she’d started reading every afternoon, the men had taken to reminding her of it, just in case she forgot.

She glanced at her brother, who lay sleeping again as though he’d never been awake.
I could leave first to go home to tell the news
. The thought held certain possibilities. But when she looked up from finding her place, the eager looks on the faces of her wounded men drove the idea straight out of her mind.

She began with the words of Oberon:

“‘I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,

Where oxslips and the nodding violet grows … ’”

A cup of cool water appeared at her side when her voice began to creak. She glanced up to smile at the man who leaned on his crutches. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. At least I didn’t spill it all.”

The tone of his voice caught in her throat. Despair, disappointment, disillusionment, all words to describe the pain she could hear and see when he let her. Or accidentally when his blackness grew too dark to see or think or do anything but feel. She drank the water and handed the cup back to him, wishing she could do something other than read for him and the others caught in that same black hole.

“Go on, please, can you read longer?”

“Yes, of course.” She smiled at the young private who shaved once a week whether he needed it or not. The smile on his face helped her forget that he’d lost one eye and most of the sight in the other.

Louisa continued her reading:

“‘Quite over-canopied with lush woodbine,

With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine,

There sleeps Titania sometimes of the night…’”

When she closed the book, the private pleaded, “One chapter from the Good Book too, please?”

“Surely.”

“Good, that comforts me more than about anything.” The scars around his eyes puckered with his smile as he leaned his chin on his knees. He always sat on the floor a foot or so from her stool where she could lay her hand on his head when she moved on. One of the men had teased him about being more devoted than the spaniel he had at home until one of the other soldiers had warned him off. Neil had become a favorite around the ward because of his good spirits in spite of his wounds.

Corporal Shaddock handed over her Bible. “First chapter of John, please.”

“But we read that yesterday.”

“I know, but I’m tryin’ to memorize it. My ma said if you memorize the Word and keep it in your heart, God will bring it to yer ’membrance when you need it. So if you read it, and I talk it with you, maybe it’ll go faster.”

Louisa glanced around the room and, at the shrugs of the others, began. “ ‘In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.’ “

When she finished, the only sound to be heard was the mutterings of a man trapped in delirium. Ready to stand and go home for the evening, she smiled at each of the men looking her way.

Ask them if they’d mind if you prayed
. She cocked her head as if that would help her hear better.
I can’t do that, I …

Ask them
.

She bit her lip and closed her eyes for a brief moment.

“You all right, Miz Highwood?” Neil touched her hand gently.

“Yes, yes. I’m fine.” She took in a breath, hoping it would stop the quivering going on in her chest. It didn’t.

She cleared her throat. Then again. “Ah, would y’all mind if we said a prayer?” The words burst from her mouth like Thoroughbreds out of the starting gate.

A snort from a man several beds down caught her attention. “Prayin’ don’t do no good.”

“Does so. I’m alive, aren’t I? I prayed for someone to come for me, and they did, and I’m alive.” Neil flung his hands wide, bumping her skirt-covered leg in the motion. “ ’Scuse me, please.” He looked up at her, his one eye pleading for her agreement.

“Of course.” How easy it would be to wrap her arms around him and play at being the mother he missed so sorely. “Those of you who want to pray, join with me. The rest of you can put your pillows over your ears.”

Several chuckles greeted her reply.

She bowed her head and closed her eyes. Some shufflings, throats being cleared, and then the room again grew silent. “God in heaven, Father of us all, we’re all here through no fault of our own. These men fought for what they believed and now bear the scars. Jesus, thou bore our sins and wear our scars. Please, we beg of you, come into this room and lay thy healing hands on each man here. Give them strength to go on with their lives, to seek thy purpose. Father, help us all to know how wide and high and long and deep thy love is for us, for thy Word says we are precious in thy sight, our Rock and our Redeemer. In the name of Jesus, in whom we put our trust, we pray. Amen.”

“That was plumb beautiful.” Neil ducked his head to wipe a tear. “Thank you.”

Other thank-yous came from around the ward as she took her books back to her closet. She glanced over to the window where the lieutenant kept his vigil. His jaw was clamped so tight the skin shone white over the bone.

“Time to go home, Missy.” Reuben stood just inside the doorway.

“Yes, it is.”
What can I do to help you?
she silently asked the lieutenant. She tried to smile at the face that had turned, but her lips wouldn’t stop quivering. She waved instead, took up her basket with dirty aprons and empty napkins, and slipped out the door.

It took her better than a block to get the memory of his eyes out of her mind. Then remembering her joyful news, she burst out, “Reuben, I have wonderful news.”

“What dat?”

“Zachary is alive, and he’s in my ward.”

“Don’t make such jokes wit an old man, Missy. Tain’t nice.”

“I’m not joking. You know the man I told you about who lay unconscious for the whole week? Why, he woke up, and he’s Zachary. My brother is alive!” She felt like whirling around in a circle and shouting for the entire town to hear.

“Praise de Lord for dat.”

“Maybe as soon as he can get around good enough, we could go home.”

“I wouldn’t say dat to Missy Sylvania. She get right upset, she would.”

“I know.” Louisa took one skip and smiled at her companion. “And to think he’s been there all week, and we didn’t know.” A couple steps later, she added, “But there was something about him. I came home thinking that two times at least. Something that seemed familiar, but all I could see was bandages.”

“Miss Sylvania always like dat boy. She be right happy.” He held open the door and motioned her through.

“Aunt Sylvania, Carrie Mae, where are you? I have wonderful news.”

“She was here when I left.” Reuben shook his head, confusion clouding his faded eyes. “Not tell dis ol’ darkie she going somewhere.”

Motioning Reuben to take her basket back to the kitchen, she climbed the stairs, one hand trailing on the carved walnut banister.
Where could Aunt Sylvania be? Ah, if only I could tell Jesselynn the wonderful news too
.

Chapter Seventeen

Gordonsville, Kentucky

It can’t be him. It can’t be.

Jesselynn took the stairs to the store in a rush, checking herself before bursting through the door.
Don’t call attention to yourself. Take it easy. Thank God those two old men are gone.
She pushed the door open to the sound of the bell tinkling above her and crossed the store to stand behind a woman wearing a dark shawl and chatting at the counter with the proprietor.

“Land sakes, you’d think they would know better, don’t you think?”

“Yes, ma’am, I agree.” He tied a string around her brown paper parcel. “Will there be anything else?”

Jesselynn almost grabbed the packet by the string and the woman by the arm and threw them out the door. What if indeed that man in the saloon was Dunlivey and he walked in here right this minute? What could she do?

She shifted from one foot to the other and cleared her throat.

The woman turned, gave her a dirty look, then shaking her head, picked up her package. “Thank you, Mister Charbonneau, and greet your dear wife for me. I do hope she is feelin’ better soon.”

Oh, please, just hurry and leave
. Jesselynn could feel someone drilling holes in her back. Surely he was right behind her. But she knew no one had come in after her; the bell hung silent. But knowing and feeling had nothing to do with each other right now. Maybe she should have just left the order and headed out.

“I will do that. Thank you, and good day, Missus Levinger. I’ll let you know when your order arrives.”

Fine, good, now go
.

The woman started to turn, checked herself, and leaned back across the counter. “You heard about …” Her voice dropped to a whisper that even Jesselynn couldn’t hear, not that she wanted to. Sweat drizzled down her back.

The woman was shaking her head again. “Well, I better get on home and get some supper on the table.”

Yes, your family is starving and your house is burning
.

Missus Levinger gave her a baleful stare as if she’d been listening in on Jesselynn’s thoughts, sniffed, and sailed out the doorway.

“Kin I help you? Oh yes, the young man with the order. I surely do hope there was no one on the casualty list that you knew.” While he talked, he set her supplies on the counter and motioned to the white tow sack. “I saw that you rode in, so this will be easier for you to carry.”

“Thank you.” She kept from looking over her shoulder through sheer muscle-cramping determination. Digging her ten-dollar gold piece out of her pocket, she laid it on the counter.

“That’ll be one dollar and seventeen cents, please.” He took the coin and, turning to the cash register, pulled out Confederate dollars and change.

“Could I have that all in silver or gold, please?”

He looked at her over the tops of his glasses, raised an eyebrow, and went back for the change. “If you want a job, young man, you could come work for me anytime. You’ve got a head on those young shoulders of yours.” He counted the change into her hand.

“Thank you kindly.” Jesselynn shoved her money in her front pocket and took up the sack. Peeking inside, she glanced up at him again. “I didn’t ask for any peppermint sticks.”

“I know, but little ones like peppermint ’bout as good as horehound, and once they’re feelin’ better, this’ll help.”

“How’d …?”

He tapped his head. “Just suspicioned. And your face says ’tis so. Call that my gift to you for bringin’ me a gold piece.”

“Thanks again.” She took her sack, waved once on the way to the door, and stepped outside. This time she didn’t dare just walk off. What if
he
was standing outside the saloon? But while the piano tune and laughter dressed in alcohol floated out the half door, all the men remained inside.

She didn’t run the mule until she was far enough out of town to not be noticed. She didn’t want to quit running him until they reached camp, but her father’s training soaked through her fear-induced haze, and she tightened her reins enough to bring him to a walk. Once he caught his breath, they could trot again. Checking over her shoulder for about the fiftieth time still revealed only an empty road. Had it really been him? Was Cavendar Dunlivey following her, or did he happen to get stationed farther west? Could God be so cruel as to let that happen?

Ideas and fears tumbled around in her head just as her stomach was doing at the mule’s gut-splitting gait. Surely she must have been hearing things. But no one else in the whole world could sound more like a braying jackass than Dunlivey, especially when he was drunk or whipping someone. That’s why her father caught him. He could hear the man laughing and went to see what was so funny.

Strange how her mind could flip back to things like that in spite of the jolting trot. She kicked the mule into a canter, which wasn’t a whole lot better. When she saw dark patches showing on his neck and shoulders, she pulled him down to a walk again. What could they do? No way on earth would she drive or ride through that town again. Benjamin would have to scout out a way around it, that’s all.

When she rode into camp, she still felt like eyes were drilling her back. She flung herself off the mule’s back and tossed the reins over his head.

“Where’s Meshach?”

Ophelia turned from stirring a pot over the fire. “Gone to water de horses.”

“Benjamin?”

“Wid him. Daniel fetchin’ wood. Babies sleepin’.” Her eyes grew rounder with each word.

Jesselynn plunked down the sack of supplies and swung back aboard the mule. “Thanks.”

She trotted down the trail to the creek, ducking under the oak branches to keep from being slapped off.

“Hey, you back sooner den I guessed.” Meshach’s smile turned to a frown when she drew closer. “What wrong?”

“I think I heard Dunlivey laugh.”

At the look of confusion he shot her, she continued. “I was walking from the store to the railroad station to check the casualty lists and had to go by the saloon. I heard men laughing, and one sounded just like Dunlivey. Who else in the entire world would laugh like that?”

“I don’ know. He laugh mighty strange.”

“I swear it was him.” She slid off the mule and leaned against his shoulder. “We can’t go through Gordonsville.”

Meshach scratched his head. “Might be good idea to make certain.” He studied Benjamin, who held the long lines so the horses could graze. “Send him in.”

“They wouldn’t let him in.”

“He can look through de window, hang outside and see him come out.”

“You think that’s better than just heading out?”

Do I want to know or not? What difference does it make?
She caught her breath in shock at the thought that whipped through her mind.
We could wait for him to come out and shoot him
.

“No, let’s just get on the way again. Let Benjamin find us a way around town. There must be a back road somewhere.” She led the mule down to the stream bank and let him have only a couple of swallows. “Sorry, boy, you’ll get more later when you cool off.”

Benjamin left shortly thereafter and returned later than she had hoped. All the while her mind played out scenes involving Dunlivey—his finding them, or getting killed in a skirmish, or baying on their trail like an old coonhound.

“Jesse?” Thaddy leaned against her knee when she sat by the fire. “What?”

He climbed up in her lap with her belated help. Turning, he put his palms on either side of her face and looked deep into her eyes. “You mad?”

She shook her head. “

’Phelia been cryin’.”

“Oh.”

He patted her cheeks. “Joshwa good boy.”

“Umm.”
Where was Benjamin? He should have been back by now
.

“Jesse!” He clapped his hands on her cheeks.

“Ouch!” She sat him on the ground with more than a gentle thump. “Thaddeus Joshua Highwood, you don’t do things like that.” Her cheeks smarted from the blows. “Whatever got into you?” Wagging her finger in front of his nose, she added, “Naughty boy.”

“I not naughty.” Hands on his hips, he met her glare with one of his own. “Me talkin’ to you.”

Jerked out of her stewing, Jesselynn swung between the desire to give him a swat on the rear or grab him and squeeze him tight. A little fighting rooster. That’s what he was. And it was her job to protect him better than she had before. She had almost lost him. She snagged one arm around him and snugged him up between her knees, the better to give him smacking kisses on both cheeks and a tickle on his belly.

“More,” he insisted in between giggles.

Jesselynn did as he asked, trying to keep one ear clear for a returning horseman.
Oh, Lord, what if I sent him out to get caught? By Dunlivey?

“We got to give dis baby a name.” Ophelia stopped walking the sick child.

“I guess.”

Thaddeus leaned back in Jesselynn’s arms. “He Sammy.”

“Sammy? How do you know?” Jesselynn stared at her baby brother.

Thaddeus shrugged. “Don’t know.”

“Why call him Sammy?”

“Dat’s his name.”

“He’s too little to talk.”

“He Sammy.” This was said with the utmost assurance that he was correct and why on earth was his sister disputing his word?

You are so much like your father, I can’t begin to believe it
. “Sammy it is, then,” Jesselynn agreed.

“Sammy is a fine name,” said Meshach, flicking another curl of wood from his whittling into the fire.

All right, so you have a wait ahead. Get busy with your knitting
. Wanting to argue with the voice in her head but knowing it was useless, she got to her feet and strolled over to the wagon. Digging down into a carpetbag of her own things, she retrieved her ball of yarn stuck on two knitting needles. When she got back to the fire, Ophelia sat on the log rocking Sammy, and Thaddy had climbed up in Meshach’s lap.

“Tell me a story.”

“Please.” Jesselynn added without really thinking about it. No matter if they lived in the wilds of whatever, he needed to learn good manners. Every southern gentleman had good manners, and if he was to be the patriarch of Twin Oaks someday, he needed to know how to behave.

Zachary, where are you? You need to come teach your little brother how to be a man
.

“All right,” Meshach said to Thaddy, hugging him close. “Long time ago der lived a boy by name of David. David took care of his father’s sheep way out in de fields. He kep’ dem safe from de wolf—”

“What’s a wolf?” Thaddeus asked the question around the thumb and forefinger triangle that fit so perfectly in his mouth.

“Like a big ol’ hound dog, only gray and lives wild in de woods.”

“Like the woods here?”

“No, far away in Bible lands.”

Jesselynn put down her knitting, the better to listen. Surely that was a horse she heard. Or was it more than one? She tried to block out Meshach’s voice so she could hear better. One of the horses whinnied.

Another answered from not too far off.

Meshach stopped his storytelling. “Shush, listen,” he whispered.

“Hey, is Benjamin.”

Jesselynn let out a breath she had no idea she’d been holding. When she stood, she took a step forward to help settle her head, which felt as if it were floating off into the clouds. “What took you so long?”

Benjamin kicked his feet free of the stirrups and swung to the ground. “I found a way.”

“Good.”

“An’ …”

Her breath caught in her throat. “And?”

“An’ it be him. Cavendar Dunlivey be playin cards in de saloon.”