Daughter of Twin Oaks (28 page)
“Thank you.” She kept her sigh to herself. What was happening at Twin Oaks? Lucinda had promised to write. Taking the sheet of paper from the envelope, she started to read, only to look up in guilt. “I’m sorry. Where are my manners?”
“You go right ahead. I’ll just enjoy my tea while you catch up on the news. Oh, and that one on the top just came yesterday.”
By the end of the few minutes it took, Jesselynn knew that Carrie Mae was engaged to be married, Louisa volunteered at the hospital, and Zachary was alive. That last she learned in the more recent letter. She put the letters down in her lap and fought the tears that threatened to break loose.
Zachary is alive
. She wanted to dance and shout, but a glance at her aunt with her chin on her chest helped calm her to only a quick squeezing of her fists.
No matter how badly he is wounded, he can go home to Twin Oaks and start over. I’ll take the horses home in the spring, and life will begin again
.
She ignored the voice that reminded her the war might not be over by then.
She read the letters again to savor every word and nuance. What had Louisa meant about her work in the hospital? Surely they didn’t let young unmarried women take care of the wounded men. She read the paragraphs again. Certainly sounded like that was just what she was doing.
Whatever was Aunt Sylvania thinking of to let Louisa do such a thing?
The thought “let Louisa” made her eyebrows rise. How could she expect Aunt Sylvania to do what she had been unable to accomplish herself? She folded the letters and slid them back into their envelopes. The clink of her cup in the saucer brought Aunt Agatha upright.
“Isn’t that good news?” She picked up her cup and wrinkled her nose when the tea she sipped was cold. “I must have slept a bit. Forgive my bad manners, please. When Lettie is unwell, I have a difficult time sleeping.”
Jesselynn refrained from asking why and handed the letters back to her aunt. “Thank you for sharing them with me. I wrote the other day to tell them we were here safely.” She heard a discreet rap at the back door. “I’d better be going. That is sure to be Meshach.” She paused. “Is there anyone you know of, Aunt, who would let me keep the horses hidden on their farm until we can go home again?”
Agatha shook her head. “No one I would trust. I’m sorry, my dear.”
Jesselynn said her good-byes, promising to return often, but not telling her aunt where they were camped. “If you need me, leave a letter at the post office, and whoever comes in to town will get it.”
“Go with God, child. I just wish I could do more.”
Jesselynn ignored the first part of the sentence and shook her head over the last. “I wish I could help
you
more.” She looked around at the dilapidated house. “Perhaps we could come in one day and do some fixin’ up, though. If it wouldn’t offend Miss Lettie?”
“We shall see.” Aunt Agatha stepped back from the horses and stared up at Meshach. “You take good care of her now, you hear?”
“Yessum, I hears.” Meshach gentled Ahab and grinned when Agatha
tsked
at Jesselynn mounted astride.
Jesselynn waved one last time as they trotted down the rutted street. “Let’s stop at the post office. Might be a letter from home.”
All the way there she told him the news from Richmond and got a lump in her throat again at the sheen of tears in the big man’s eyes at the good news.
“I’m right glad to hear that,” he said. “Thank you, Lord above, for takin’ keer of our boy.”
Jesselynn rolled her eyes. Leave it to Meshach; he just didn’t understand. Zachary making it through was luck, pure and simple.
“I have a letter here for Miss Jesselynn Highwood. Would she be any relation to you?” the woman behind the counter asked.
“Ah yes. That’s my sister. I’ll take it to her.” Jesselynn took the envelope and studied the unfamiliar handwriting. “Thank you.” She stuffed the envelope into her pocket and followed an elderly lady out the door. As she’d made the men promise to do, she glanced around but saw no one that seemed interested in her or what she was doing.
But once on the horses, she felt shivers run up her spine. Lucinda used to call it “someone walkin’ on mah grave.”
Before mounting she looked again, but everything around them seemed to fit.
“What wrong?” Meshach asked in an undertone.
“I don’t know. Just feels like someone is watchin’ me.”
“Don’ see nobody.”
“I know. Me neither. Let’s get outa here.”
Once out of town, she opened the letter. A blank page stared back at her.
Missouri cave
“Why would someone send a blank page?”
“I don’ know.”
If Jesselynn had asked the question once in the last three days, she’d asked it a hundred times. While they had posted lookouts around the clock, no one had seen anything or anyone suspicious. They grazed the horses both morning and afternoon, and Meshach went hunting early every morning, returning with rabbits from the snares he set, another deer, and a couple of ducks. Those at the cave kept the fire going to cure the meat and worked at tanning the hides. Daniel wore his new moccasins, a gift from Sergeant White, with pride.
Barnabas, as he asked to be called, took one of the tanned rabbit pelts and created a pad for the stump of his leg, so he could begin to wear the peg that he and Meshach designed. While he couldn’t wear it long or put all of his weight on it, the peg leg helped his balance.
“What if we carved me a foot and put a boot on it, then it would look more like a real leg.”
“We kin try.” Meshach studied the piece of wood in his hand. “Carvin’ it ain’t the problem. It’d be mighty stiff.” With two fingers, he hung on to one end of the foot-long piece and bobbed it up and down. “Look, see how a foot walks. Needs to bend at de ankle.” He leaned over and stroked the hair back from Jane Ellen’s forehead.
Jesselynn often wondered how a man’s hand so big and strong enough to shoe horses and all the other chores Meshach accomplished with such ease could still be so gentle with their silent girl. Walking Jane Ellen had become Jesselynn’s job, and as long as she held the hand that was becoming more clawlike daily and led her around, Jane Ellen walked. Otherwise she sat—and stared into nothing. They took turns feeding her, the boys chattered to her as if she were indeed listening, and Ophelia combed her hair and sang to her.
If Jesselynn allowed herself to think beyond the moment, she wondered if the young girl would just fade away and one morning they would wake up to find her cold and stiff, instead of warm and silent.
“What about a wire hinge or even a wooden one?” Barnabas took the wood from Meshach and outlined a hinge on the end of the wood. “Then notch up into the wooden leg.”
“So, how you keep it from floppin’ down when you walk?”
“Oh.” The two went back to their carving and pondering.
Jesselynn took her sewing outside to sit in the sunshine. Sammy needed clothes for the winter, so she cut up one of her father’s shirts and fashioned a shift for the black baby. She figured to make him a vest out of the rabbit pelts as soon as they were ready. The way Thaddeus was growing, she’d need material, or hides, to sew new pants for him too.
Ophelia had been down to the swamp and brought back cattail leaves for making baskets, along with stalks and roots for cooking. When she had a few minutes, she would sit down to weave again. “Babies sleepin’.” She brought her work out into the sun to sit near Jesselynn.
A crow flew overhead, his raucous call causing Jesselynn to look up. A blue jay joined in the warning announcement.
Jesselynn’s heart picked up the pace. She scanned the area she could see, set down her sewing, and stood to look up the hill above the cave. Nothing. She listened, but other than the breeze rattling the few remaining leaves, she could see or hear nothing. Nevertheless that feeling of being watched returned. Could someone be watching them and stay hidden? She examined the oak trees around them, one by one. Many had trunks large enough to hide a man, but who would dare come so close? They kept the rifles in plain view.
“What is it?” Barnabas stumped his way out to stand beside her.
“I don’t know. It’s just a feelin’.” Jesselynn rubbed the back of her neck. “Guess I’m just spooked ever since that letter.”
“Know anyone who could be lookin’ for you?”
“Yes.”
Should I tell him or not? And how can I without telling him who I really am?
She continued scanning the trees, lingering over a broad trunk made even wider with a burl the size of a washtub. Now where would she hide if she were watching the camp?
“We need more wood. I’m thinkin’ of tryin’ to chop down one of those smaller trees.”
“Choppin’ wood puts lots of pressure on the knees.”
“I know.” He stood beside her, giving the trees the same once-over she did. He stumped along with her as she walked to the edge of the clearing where the bank sloped off down to the creek that threaded its way between the hills. Ridges and hollers, according to the locals.
“Jesse, mayhap I could be more of a help if I knew the whole story.”
Jesselynn heard the caring in his voice. She knew if she turned around his eyes would be warm and his mouth curved in that gentle smile he had. Once or twice she’d even thought on what kissing him would be like. She straightened just enough to put a bit of distance between them.
“I know you’re no lad.”
“Umm.” What could she say? Did she dare tell him?
“But I know too, you got yourself a mighty good reason to keep up the masquerade.”
“I reckon what you don’t know can’t hurt you.”
Or me either
.
“That’s not always true.”
“Maybe not, but I got to do what’s best for everybody here.”
“What about what’s best for Jesse?”
“Jesselynn.”
There, I did it
. “And the man who can do us the most harm is Cavendar Dunlivey. When my daddy kicked him off Twin Oaks and I turned down his proposal, he swore to get us all, including the slaves and the horses. While I’ve emancipated my people, he could sell ’em down the river if he caught them.”
She shuddered inside at what he would do to her. “I’d kill him myself before I let him touch any one of us.” All the while they talked, they both studied the surrounding area, rather than each other. But every particle of skin and clothing seemed charged, and she was sure sparks would snap if they touched.
Telling him let her stand a little straighter as he shared her burden.
“So, what will you do?”
“Hide the horses here through the winter. Then when the war is over in the spring, we’ll go home again.” The thought of seeing Twin Oaks when the infant oak leaves were pinking on the stems made her eyes water.
“What makes you think the war will be over by spring?”
“It has to be.” She turned at the sound of the whistle that announced Benjamin was back with the horses. She whistled back and bumped into the broad chest of the man who’d been standing with her. The thought of leaning on that chest and letting him put his arms around her made her catch her breath. Not since John rode off so gallantly had she stood in the stronghold of a man’s embrace.
She swallowed and stared at the button midway up his shirt. “I … I’d better go.” Her hands itched to touch him.
“Jesselynn.”
Ah, the sound of her name. So long since she’d been Jesselynn, it seemed a lifetime ago.
“Jesse.” She stepped back. “Please remember that.” When he reached to touch her hand, she sidestepped the contact. “I’d better get back to sewing if Sammy is to have something warmer to wear.”
“We’ll talk again.”
“Oh, I’m sure we will.” She swallowed the catch in her throat.
Could she love this man in the same way she had loved John? Did she really know what loving a man was like, since all she’d shared were a few kisses and dreams?
She stepped around him and returned to her sewing, stitching as fast as her thoughts swirled until she pricked her finger and a dot of blood glowed on the white cloth. The word she thought was not the one she uttered, which was a good thing because just then Thaddeus ambled out of the cave, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as she rubbed the blood from her fingertip.
That night before going to bed, Jesselynn stopped Barnabas at the mouth of the cave. “If you figured out that I’m … I’m not a man, is it that I am such a poor actor?”
White shook his head. “No. Don’t worry yourself about that. One would need to be around awhile to figure it out.”
“What then?”
“Little things, like your sewing. No man sews such a fine seam, and most men, especially young ones, aren’t as tender as you with children or as gentle with the ill, like the way you care for Jane Ellen.”
“Anything else?” She knew her tone was clipped, but the worry of it all sharpened her every which way.
“Well, ah …” His hesitation brought the memory back to her of when she’d helped him eat and drink, and the look on his face the one time he’d fallen against her chest.
“Good night, Sergeant White.” She brushed past him and darted off into the trees, her cheeks flaming as much as she suspected his were, but he had a beard to disguise the condition.
“We’d better make another trip to town,” Jesselynn said several days later, days she’d spent making sure she was always on the other side of the fire from Barnabas White. Being near him made it more difficult to think, and she couldn’t afford herself that luxury. Even thinking his name made her feel soft inside.
“Kin we git some sugar or molasses an’ maybe milk?” Ophelia looked up from hanging more venison over the drying fire. “De babies, dey need milk.”
“I know.” Jesselynn heaved a sigh. They all needed so many things, things she had taken for granted at home, like cloth and thread, flour and cornmeal, horseshoes and cowhide or pigskin to repair harnesses and bridles. One of the reins had broken the day before on the bridle Ahab wore. “Maybe if we get to Aunt Agatha’s before dawn, the horses won’t cause a stir.” Oh, how she missed that mule right about now. No matter how they tried to disguise them, Thoroughbreds were Thoroughbreds, and anyone with a decent eye for horseflesh would spot them. If only they knew of a place outside of town where they could leave the horses and walk on in. And if Meshach got work at the livery, how would he get back and forth, or if he stayed in town, where?
Too many questions and no answers.
Instead of worrying about the possibilities, she took out paper and pen to write to her sisters. While she had as many questions for them as they’d had for her, none of them made a life-or-death difference. Now if only there’d be a letter from Twin Oaks at the post office, she would have one less thing to worry about.
The next morning after an uneventful daybreak ride, they tied the horses in the shed at Aunt Agatha’s and rapped gently at the back door. Agatha answered the door, mopping her eyes at the same time.
“What is it, Aunt?” Jesselynn took her aunt’s icy hands in her own.
“Lettie is so sick. I’ve been nursing her, but last night she took a turn for the worse. Please.” She gave Meshach an imploring look. “Could you go for the doctor?”
“Of course he will. Where is the doctor’s house?”
While Agatha gave Meshach instructions, Jesselynn crossed to the stove and checked the firebox. The fire was nearly out and the woodbox empty, but when she stepped outside, the woodpile was down to a few sticks. Checking the back side of the shed, she had to admit there was another problem: the two old women were about out of wood. If the temperature of the day was any indication, winter was shoving fall out of the way and taking over.
She’d have to set the men to cutting wood and bring in a wagonload, but that wouldn’t help today. What could she do? Wasn’t there anyone in this town who watched out for widow ladies? She picked up her load and headed back for the house.
Agatha met her at the door again. “I just don’t know what more to do for her.”
“I know. You’ve done the best you could.” Jesselynn shaved a few slivers off the wood with the butcher knife on top of the stove and laid them over the few remaining coals. If she’d seen the ax, she’d have split a piece or two for fire starter. Opening the draft wide, she blew on the coals until a tendril of smoke rose, then another. She set the lid divider in place and then the back lid so the draft would work when she added the two smallest pieces. By the time the burners were hot enough to heat water, she could hear Meshach’s boots on the back step.
“Doctor say he be right over.” He caught his breath, then added, “Also ask why you not call for ’im sooner.”
Agatha straightened as though she was about to fight, then slumped. “We have no money to pay a doctor, so we do what we can.”
