Daughter of Twin Oaks (25 page)

Two weeks later they arrived in the Springfield area. Leaving the rest of them down in a hollow, Jesselynn rode the mule into town and up to a store. Fingering her remaining coins, she approached the counter.

“Help you, son?” The aproned man behind the counter turned from filling a bag with coffee beans.

“Yes, suh, I’s lookin’ for the farm of Hiram Highwood. He’s my uncle.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” The man shook his head. “I knowed Hiram for a long time. Good man. Hope you ain’t come too far. Hiram was one of the early casualties of the war.”

Jesselynn kept from stepping back with a superhuman effort. “And Aunt Agatha?”

“Not sure where she went to. Farm got burnt to the ground, long about a year ago now.” He leaned forward.

“You all right, young man? You look whiter’n a sheet on washday.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Richmond, Virginia

Her sister’s wedding day dawned, and all she wanted to do was stay in bed.

“Louisa, are you up yet?” The knock came softly on her door.

“No, and neither are the birds.”

“I couldn’t sleep any longer.” Carrie Mae peeked around the slowly opening door. “Can I come in?”

“Of course.” Louisa patted the bed beside her. “Just don’t expect any brilliant conversation.” When Carrie Mae drew closer, Louisa sat up. “You’ve been crying.”

Carrie Mae sniffed. “I know. All I can think is that I want Mama and Daddy here for my wedding. It’s not fair.” She flung herself on the covers and great sobs heaved her shoulders. “And … and it … sh-should be at … at T-Twin Oaks.”

“I know.” Louisa patted her sister’s shoulder, tears now streaming down her own face. And here she’d wondered at times if Carrie Mae even thought of home. “We can be grateful that Aunt Sylvania didn’t say you had to wait a whole year for proper mourning.”

“I … I know.” Carrie Mae used the bed sheet to mop her eyes. “I don’t think I could have borne it.”

The silence stretched, punctuated by occasional sniffs on both their parts.

This is the last time we share a bed like this, the last time for all the girl talks we’ve had through the years
. Since the two of them were closer in age than the others, only a year apart, often they had banded together, playing tricks on Jesselynn and tormenting their older brothers. Until the brothers grew up and went away to school and the tutor remained for the girls. Until the war.

Louisa sighed. Should she? “I have a question to ask you.”

Carrie Mae rolled up on her side, head propped on one hand. “What?”

“Well, this is kind of personal.”

“So?”

“How … how did you know when you were in love with Jefferson?” She couldn’t look her sister in the eyes.

Carrie Mae flopped onto her back. “Ah, Louisa, when love strikes, you know. I wanted to be with him all the time. When he came near, sparks seemed to fly—even off our clothing.” She propped her head up again. “You know how I love chocolate mints?”

“Of course, how many times did I have to beat you away from mine.”

“I gave mine to Jefferson because he said he really likes them.”

“You didn’t.”

“Did so. And that isn’t all. You know how we prayed for the perfect men to be our mates, how mother had prayed for us that way for years?” Louisa nodded. “Jefferson is that man. He is kind, intelligent, works hard—Daddy would want those traits—makes me laugh—and you know how I love to laugh—will be able to support a family, and”—she paused and her eyes grew dreamy—“he thinks I am the most wonderful woman God ever created, and I plan to make sure he keeps on thinking that. We believe the same and come from the same backgrounds.”

“Sounds like a marriage made in heaven. Surely there is something you want to change.”

“I wish … I wish I could give him his arm back.” Tears cushioned the simple words.

“Anythin’ else?” Louisa forced her words past the tears clogging her throat.

“Would that we could live at, or at least near, Twin Oaks.”

“You’ll have to visit often. There’s plenty of room, you know.” Louisa closed her eyes and pictured the stately columns, the front portico, brick walls warmed by the Kentucky sun, green lawns, and honeysuckle growing up past some of the bedroom windows.

A cardinal sang and another echoed.

“We better get to movin’ if you’re to be at the church at eleven.”

“I know.” Carrie Mae turned on her side again. “It’s the lieutenant, isn’t it?”

“Um-hm.” Louisa lay on her side facing her sister. “But … but I have no idea if he … he …” She drew circles on the sheet with her fingertip.

“If he cares for you like you do him?” Carrie Mae sounded older and wiser instead of like the younger sister.

“But I’m not really sure how I feel. I mean like …” Louisa drew circles on the bedspread with her finger. “Guess I just better keep on praying, right?”

“And I will too. Oh, Louisa, I want you and Jesselynn to be as happy as I am right now. And Zachary too, though I’m not sure men always know when they are happy.”

Louisa nodded again. How seldom she had seen a glimmer of laughter or joy in the lieutenant, but then his situation wasn’t of the kind to be laughing a lot over.

But other men find things to laugh about, even in the hospital. Joy is everywhere. You just have to recognize it
.

She reached over and hugged her sister. “You grab all the joy you can and spread it around. ’Cause sometimes it’s shy and needs invitin’ in. Mama and Daddy had it, and I wish it for you. Lord, bless my sister with joy unending, no matter what happens in her life.”

Carrie Mae wiped her eyes again, this time with the tips of her fingers. “Thank you. I’ll ring for coffee, and we can begin getting ready.”

Hours later, standing beside Carrie Mae in front of the altar, Louisa looked up at the Shepherd in the window above them. It seemed He looked right down and smiled at her, a smile so full of love and warmth that she wanted to squeeze her sister’s hand and point upward.
Thank you for the blessing. Oh, Lord, fill this marriage with such love that everyone sees it and knows where it comes from
.

“I do.” Carrie Mae responded in a clear voice that left no doubt as to her commitment.

“Therefore what God has joined together, let no man put asunder. I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

The minister gave the benediction and the organ swelled in a song of joy as the newlyweds made their way up the aisle. When Louisa took the arm of Jefferson’s brother, she glanced up to catch the gaze of a tall, no longer quite so thin, man who seemed to have eyes only for her.

She smiled at him as she passed and waited in the vestibule until he could join her. “You will be coming back to Aunt Sylvania’s for cake and punch?”

“An army couldn’t keep me away.”

Shivers ran up and down her back. Did this mean what she hoped it meant?

Though the wedding had been small due to the recent losses of so many, still the house and garden thronged with people. Louisa helped with the serving since they had such a small staff and wished she could have time to talk with the lieutenant—alone. Once she had even slipped and thought
my
lieutenant. When she passed him a cup of punch, their fingers brushed, and she nearly dropped the cup.

“Can we talk a bit after …” He sidestepped as a young boy chased after another and nearly took out his crutches.

Louisa smiled, fighting to keep from breaking out in song. “Of course.”

She helped her sister change into a gray silk traveling dress, since the two would be going to Williamsburg for a week before they returned to Richmond and he to his law practice. They would be living in a little house not far from his office.

“Well, Mrs. Jefferson Steadly, you behave yourself now, you hear?” Louisa tried to sound like their mother at her sternest.

“Oh, I will.” Carrie Mae adjusted the brim of her hat and tucked a strand of hair back into her chignon. “There, now, how do I look?”

“Blissfully happy and enchantingly lovely.” Louisa dabbed at the corner of her eye and sniffed. “God be with you, my dear sweet sister.” The two wrapped their arms around each other and hugged as if they were saying final good-byes.

“Now, off with you. I heard Jefferson is waiting at the bottom of the stairs.”

Louisa watched as her baby sister descended the stairs, the plume on her hat bobbing gaily.
Lord bless them, take care of them, and please bring them back home safely
.

Carrie Mae turned at the door and blew her a kiss. Louisa caught it like a treasure.

The company couldn’t leave quickly enough. Dusk came and still some lingered on the veranda. Short of pushing them out the door, Louisa joined in the conversation, making sure her brother and the other invalids were comfortable. When finally the last guest wandered down the front walk, she turned to find the lieutenant sitting in the glider, his crutches balanced against the front railing. He patted the seat beside him.

Louisa sat as close to her end of the swing as her skirts permitted, but still she could feel the heat from his body. “Ah, such a lovely wedding, don’t you agree, sir?” She glanced over at him. Where had the smile gone? “Is something wrong, Lieutenant?”

“Do you think you could call me Gilbert?”

The deep timbre of his voice sent a tingle clear to the end of her fingertips.

“All right, Gilbert.” She whispered his name as if they were sitting in church.

“And I may call you Louisa?”

Why did her name sing when he said it?

“Yes.” The glider moved back and forth just enough to stir the stillness of the surrounding dusk.

“Miss Louisa, I … I’m so grateful you aren’t married.” His words came out in a rush, as if he’d been choking them back for some time.

“Really? Me too. I mean …” Oh, gingersnap, was she going to mess things up again?

“I …”

He hardly seemed to notice what she had said, concentrating on something he needed to say. Her heart settled into a deeper beat.

“I find I am coming to care for you.” He turned and took her hand in his. “Do you … I mean … is there, I’m …”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” He blinked and rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.

“Yes, I too think I am coming to care, for you, I mean.”

“Ah.” He closed his eyes. “The foot, it doesn’t matter?”

“Why should it?”

“I’ll never walk properly, and riding a horse will be difficult. At least that’s what they tell me.”

Louisa longed to lay her hand along his cheek, to smooth the lines from his eyes and the deep gashes from the sides of his well-etched lips. “I pray there will be no lingering pain, that is all.”

“I … I would like to court you. I’ve already talked with your brother.”

Leave it to the lieutenant, right to the point. “I’d like that.”

“But I have a bit of a problem.”

“Oh?”

“I have to leave for my home in North Carolina tomorrow, and I’m not sure when I will be back. The army discharged me this morning.”

“But you
will
be back?” Where did the tears come from so quickly?

“Ah yes, I will be back, and in the meantime we can write?”

“Of course.”
At least he isn’t going off to war again
.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Springfield, Missouri

Late October 1862

Where can we go?

Jesselynn slumped against the counter, the edge of it cutting into her hip. The candy jars in front of her grew smaller, then larger. Her head felt as if it would float right off. She blinked and sucked in a deep breath.

“I say, boy, are you all right?” The man reached a hand across the counter and clamped on Jesselynn’s wrist. “Lizzie, come here and help me.” His raised voice penetrated the buzzing in her ears.

If this was what fainting felt like, Jesselynn knew she was right close to the edge. She bit down on her tongue until she wanted to yelp and blinked again. This time the jars settled back into place, their red-and-white-striped sticks no longer dancing.

“What?” She shook her head. “Did you say something?”

“I asked if you was all right. You looked some dreadful.”

“What is it, Lawrence?” A woman slender as her man was portly bustled into the room, took one look at Jesselynn, and changed direction. She pulled a chair from near the potbellied stove that reigned in the middle of the room and, setting it behind Jesselynn, pushed her down onto it. “Now put your head down, young man, and in a couple of minutes you’ll be right as rain.” Since the woman had hold of the back of Jesselynn’s neck and was pushing downward, there wasn’t much else she could do.

She shut her eyes and sucked in a couple of deep breaths. “I … I’m fine now, ma’am.” As the patting hand released, Jesselynn sat back up to hear Lawrence telling his wife the story. It didn’t sound any better the second time, worse in fact. Some of the slaves had been burned with the barns.

“You know where Miz Highwood is livin’?” Lawrence asked his wife as he leaned on his hands, arms stiff to prop him up.

“I might kin find out.” The hesitancy in her voice gave Jesselynn an idea the woman knew more than she was letting on. “If I kin find her, where can she find you?”

“Ah, I’m not sure. You see, we just arrived here from Kentucky, and I was plannin’ on stayin’ with my kinfolk.” Jesselynn knew her accent was going in and out but didn’t seem to be able to do much about it. The shock had her stomach so tied in knots she could hardly swallow.

What will I do with the horses? Where can we stay? Can’t go home until spring, and spring is a long way off from now
.

Her legs gave way, and she plunked back down in the chair.
How can I feed all those people and the horses through the winter?
She didn’t have to jingle her pockets to know how little money they had left.

Not near enough.

She got back to her feet. “I thank you for the information, and now I’d better get the other I came for and head on back.” Mentally she rewrote the list. “I need five pounds of beans, same of flour and cornmeal, half a pound of salt …” She crossed off coffee and sugar. “And a sack of oats.” The two mares would need extra feed for the next couple of months, since they were due to foal in early February.

“You want those oats rolled or—”

“No, regular is fine.” She eyed the candy jars. Thaddeus and Sammy hadn’t had any candy since halfway across Kentucky. She gritted her teeth. “And two sticks of that peppermint there.” She watched as the two went about filling her order.
Eggs, I want an egg, and milk
.

“You know anyone could use a good blacksmith who can fix about anything, set wheels, shoe horses—?”

“You could check over at the livery down the street and to your right. There’s a foundry in town too. He might want some help. Things been right busy since the army been in and out.”

“Union or Confederate?”

“Union.” He studied Jesselynn over his half glasses. “Why?”

“Just curious.”

“You got slaves?”

Jesselynn shook her head.

“ ’Cause some don’t hold too highly with that. Could cause all kinds of trouble.”

Jesselynn picked up the warning note in his voice. Did that mean her people were safe from slave traders here? Did she dare ask?

Like her daddy always said, “You learn more with a closed mouth and open ears.”

“That’ll be one dollar and seventy-five cents.”

She brought out her five-dollar gold piece and laid it on the counter. “Know anyone wantin’ the services of a good stud horse?”

“What’s his breedin’?”

“Oh, this ’n that, but he throws mighty fine colts.”

“I’m certain the military would be interested.” He counted the change back into her hand.

“Most likely, but not for stud.” Jesselynn gathered up her purchases and stuffed them into the tow sack she had with her. “We’ll have to tie the oats on behind the saddle. That’s my mule right out there.” She nodded over her shoulder. Turning to the woman, she finished, “If you happen to see my aunt Agatha, tell her Zachary Highwood is lookin’ for her. She kin write me a letter to the post office, and I’ll pick it up there.”

“Of course, young man, we’ll do just that.” She came around the corner of the counter as her husband left to get the grain. “Any message you want me to give her—if I find her, that is?”

Jesselynn nodded. “Tell her my daddy came home to die from the war and said we—I—was to come stay with her.”

“All right. I’ll do that. You know where the post office is?”

“No, ma’am.”

She gave Jesselynn the instructions and closed the door after her. The bell tinkling overhead sounded as friendly as it had when she went in, but now the whole world was changed.

Clouds had covered the sun, and a chill wind picked at the edge of her coat and the brim of her hat, making her body feel as cold as her spirit.

Had Aunt Agatha even gotten the letter she’d written, the one that said Major Joshua Highwood had died and she was bringing the horses to stay at Hiram’s? For a moment she wished she’d stayed out of sight and waited to see if the woman at the store had left to go find Aunt Agatha. She was certain she knew where Aunt Agatha was staying. Why would that be a secret?

Jesselynn kept watch over her shoulder as she crossed the prairie, meandering between farms and back to the willow-lined hollow where they’d sheltered the night before. The banks had been knee-deep in grass, so the horses were having a good feed. Maybe Daniel had even caught some fish in the creek. Now wouldn’t that be a treat after their weeks of venison, rabbit, and more venison? The wild turkey that Benjamin brought in one day had disappeared faster than water on a hot stove. She’d kept a couple of the primary wing feathers for quills to write with and let Thaddeus play Indian with the others.

She whistled the three-tone greeting they’d agreed upon long before and waited for an answer before riding down the bank.

“What wrong?” Meshach stood at the mule’s shoulder, staring up into her face.

“Hiram, the farm, all gone.” Jesselynn shrugged and her shoulders sagged. “They said Aunt Agatha might be around. I’m sure she is, but the folks at the store weren’t givin’ her away.”

“The farm?”

“Burned to the ground over a year ago. Why did no one write to us? I wondered why we didn’t hear at Christmas, but …” She pleated the mule’s brushy mane with her fingers. “Lots of times letters get lost during a war.”

Like hers might have been. Maybe Agatha had no idea they were coming. She shook her head again and slid to the ground. “That’s oats for the mares in the big sack. Ration it.” She untied the tow sack from the saddle and slung it over her shoulder. Cursing the war and the men who started it, she plunked the sack of food in the wagon and looked around for Ophelia and the boys.

“Daniel got a mess of fish.”

“Good thing. And we better be finding us a hidin’ place. Most likely another cave.”

“I take it you didn’t have good news?” Sergeant White sat on the wagon tongue, rewrapping the bandage on his stump of a leg, his crutch at the ready beside him.

Jesselynn shook her head. “ ’Fraid not.”

“How are you for money?”

Jesselynn stopped and turned to stare at him. “Why?”

“I got me some cash and I’d like to share it with you, since you been carin’ for me and all.”

Jesselynn stuffed her pride in her back pocket. “Paper or hard money?”

“Both.”

“If it’s Confederate script, it’s not worth the paper it’s printed on. Might as well start a fire with it, but the other, well …”

“Good thing you didn’t have to cut this boot off.” He pointed to his boot. “If you would do the honors.”

Giving him a disbelieving glance, she did as he asked and handed him the boot.

He reached inside, dug in a slit, and brought out two gold coins. “The paper is in my pack.”

“No, it’s not.”

“You didn’t know where to look, and if the Confederates take over this area, the script might be worth something again. We can hang on to it.” He reached toward her with the coins. “Here.”

Jesselynn shook her head. “How will you get home without it?”

“How will I get home with it?” He pulled his hand back and stuffed one coin back in the boot, then handed her the other. “We’ll split it, but if you need this, you tell me. Promise?”

Jesselynn took the ten-dollar gold piece and, hefting it once, dropped it into her pocket to mingle with the change there. That would help them for a while, but the winter stretched ahead like a painter about to pounce.

Barnabas set his boot on the ground and tried to stuff his foot in it, but the force sent him nearly tumbling over the side of the wagon tongue. Jesselynn jumped just in time to brace him. His head rested against her chest until between them, they got him upright again.

The look he gave her made her step back. “What?”

“Marse Jesse?” His voice came thick and hoarse.

“Yes.” She took another step back.

“Okay, if that is what you say.”

He knows. No, he doesn’t. He can’t. He knows
.

But his gray eyes twinkled just the tiniest bit, and a smile quirked the side of his mouth, barely discernible with his beard but there nevertheless.

That night around the fire, Jesselynn clasped her hands, her elbows resting on her knees. She’d already told everyone what had happened in town, so continued. “Now the way I see it, we need to find a good warm cave to hole up in until we can go back home in the spring. Surely the war will be done by then.”
Dreamer
. She ignored the accusing voice in her head to add, “Maybe Meshach can find work in town. Places are always in need of a good blacksmith.” She studied the calluses on her hands. “We’ll just have to live off the land.” Glancing over at Jane Ellen, who sat wherever Ophelia put her, and down at the two boys, one sleeping on Ophelia’s lap and Thaddeus leaning against her own side, she sighed. So many mouths to feed.

“I kin watch the young’uns.” Sergeant White smiled at her across the campfire. “And I was a right good cook. So I’m sure losin’ part of my leg won’t change that once I learn to hobble better so’s I don’t tip over in the fire.”

Meshach and Benjamin chuckled at that. “We save his hide mor’n once.”

“So, tomorrow we’re off to the hills to spy out a cave.” They all nodded.

“I kin still shoot, you know. If y’all want to leave me here with Ophelia and the young’uns.”

Meshach and Jesselynn exchanged glances, then both nodded.

It took the four of them searching for two days to find a cave sufficiently large for them all and far enough away from any farms or main roads. It lay on the south face of a steep hollow several hours south and west of Springfield. There was plenty of pasture close by and not many farms, due to the roughness of the terrain.

Once they were settled in, Jesselynn took time to write letters, one to those at Twin Oaks, the other to her sisters in Richmond. After describing their journey so far, she asked if they had heard anything from Twin Oaks. She had really expected a letter from Lucinda to be waiting at the post office, but when Benjamin went in to check, there had been nothing for them.

Please write soon. I must know how you are. Have you heard anything from Zachary? I keep telling myself that no news is good news, and I am grateful every time I read a casualty list and his name is not on it.

Louisa, with all your gifts for healing broken creatures, I wish you were here to help us with Jane Ellen. She has not made a peep since that terrible scream when Meshach took her brother away to be buried. Sergeant White is healing up fine, getting around better on his crutch every day. I am as ever. Someday you’ll have to try wearing britches. It’s hard to think that I will ever have to go back to skirts and dresses.

She thought of telling Louisa of her suspicions that the sergeant realized she is a woman, but the possibility of even a long-distance diatribe from Aunt Sylvania made her wish she hadn’t said the latter.

She signed her name and, after waiting for the ink to dry, folded the letter and addressed the envelope. Daniel could take it into town in the morning. On a whim, she took her writing folder out to where Sergeant White was whittling on something and keeping an eye on Sammy and Thaddeus as they played in the sunshine.

“You want to write a letter home?” She extended the leatherbound case. “Perhaps your girl would like to know if you’re alive or not too.”