Spinning the Moon (27 page)

Slowly, she returned to the bedside. I stole a glance at the still figure on the bed and felt a sinking feeling in my belly. The sheets were stained a deep crimson, creating a dramatic backdrop to the pale leg lying on top. A white bandage, startling against the grayness of his hair, now covered most of Zeke's forehead. Charles probed into the leg wound with a long metal instrument, while Stuart poured the amber contents of Zeke's beloved jug over the hole, making Zeke's body twitch. I swallowed quickly and turned away. I felt helpless in my inactivity, but I knew there was nothing more I could do.

*   *   *

I awoke to the sound of a log falling in the fireplace. Stuart prodded the fire with a poker, his face grim. I sat up with a start, my stomach grumbling. “What time is it?”

His face creased in a slight smile. “Time for you to eat.”

I glanced toward the bed. A white bandage had been wrapped around the wounded leg, but there was still no movement from Zeke. “How is he?”

“Better. Charles managed to remove as much of the bullet as he could, and Julia has dressed the wound to prevent it from festering. Now we just wait and see.”

“Where are Charles and Julia?”

“They have returned to Phoenix Hall. We are to bring Zeke there later. He is not safe here.”

“Stuart.” A weak voice sounded from the bed.

Zeke's teeth chattered together, his whole body shaking. I pulled the quilt up on the bed and tucked it in around him. He had always appeared tall and imposing, but now it was as if his body had left a mere shadow of the man on the bed. Instinctively, I laid a hand on his forehead and brushed the hair out of his eyes.

His eyes bored into mine, emphasizing his words. “We have to get you away from here. Pamela . . . It was Pamela.”

“We know,” said Stuart. “We are going to bring you back to Phoenix Hall to keep you safe.” He dipped a ladle into the water bucket and held it to Zeke's lips.

Zeke pushed it away angrily. “Listen,” he said, his voice hoarse. “It is Laura who is in danger.”

He began to rise off the bed, but I gently pushed him back. “It's okay. Pamela won't hurt me. We reached a truce. We're safe.”

I felt two sets of eyes on me and could not meet either one.

“What kind of a truce?” Stuart's voice held a hint of anger, but I managed to meet his eyes.

“I need you to trust me again. A lot more than you know is at stake.” Zeke groaned, and I saw that his eyes had become glazed. “Do you have anything for his pain?”

Distracted momentarily, Stuart answered, “Yes, Julia left some wintergreen tea.” He walked toward the fire. “We are not done with our discussion.”

Nothing more was said as Endy was saddled and we prepared to vacate the cabin. We rode back to Phoenix Hall near dusk in a somber procession. I sat behind Zeke on Endy's saddle, clutching tightly to the older man to prevent him from slipping off. His mind was clouded over with pain. He spoke in a tongue I had never heard before—probably Cherokee. I was surprised when Stuart answered him back in the same language. The soothing inflections of his voice told me he offered words of comfort to his grandfather.

While Stuart brought Zeke inside, I raced upstairs to put on some clothes. It felt strange to be in my room again, as I remembered the last
time I had been there and was in a haze of poison and near death. I shuddered but entered, the cheeriness of the room pushing back the dark thoughts of Sarah with Matt Kimble. And what might happen should I fail to do the impossible.

I dressed hurriedly, skipping the corset and hoops, but at least remembering three petticoats. My mind raced as I buttoned up the coarse muslin, weighing my options.

When I had entered the house, I had noticed all the little things that were missing: pictures from the walls, knickknacks from the tables. I had nearly tripped over a trunk of children's clothes and linens that lay open at the bottom of the steps. It was apparent that Julia was ready to move her household to Valdosta.

Pamela had told me to stay. But I could not endanger Sarah's life by telling anyone why. I had to think of another reason.

I followed voices into the parlor as I came down the steps. Stuart stood by the window, drinking from a glass. Dr. Watkins stood next to him, his eyes on Julia, who was sitting on the sofa. All heads turned as I entered.

“You are leaving for Valdosta tomorrow.” Stuart took a deep swallow from his drink.

I bristled under his authoritative statement. “I don't think so.”

He raised a questioning eyebrow.

I turned to Charles. “Surely Zeke shouldn't be moved yet.”

“Yes, you are quite correct.” He looked at Stuart and shrugged. “But the news from up north is not good. The Yankees are amassing a huge army just north of our border, and Captain Clark of the Roswell Battalion has informed me that they will be making defensive preparations in case of an attack on Roswell. He is advising that women and children leave.”

“And it is doubtful my mother will follow us all the way south to Valdosta.” Julia's quiet voice was almost lost in the din of the blood pounding in my temples. I had thought of a plan.

“I will stay here with Zeke. When he is well enough to travel, we will follow you.”

Stuart and Charles began their protests at once. But Julia's voice
drowned them out. “Laura is right. It could kill Zeke to move him. The Yankees are not coming tomorrow—they will be safe for the time being. If she wants to stay, then let her stay.”

My gaze met Julia's, and she gave a quick nod before glancing away.

“But what about Pamela? She tried to kill you and Zeke both.” Stuart rubbed his hand through his hair. “And I could never leave a woman alone here with only a sick old man.” He stopped his pacing to stand in front of me. “What kind of a truce did you make with Pamela?”

Charles stepped in. “You cannot trust Pamela. Her mind is obviously unhinged.”

“I can't tell you—I gave her my word.” I stared into two sets of eyes, one brown, the other blue, and saw the same expression in them. Like I was some recalcitrant child that needed to be persuaded into something that was for her own good. “I know I have said this more times than you've wanted to hear it, but you have to trust me. There is too much at stake for me to tell you any more.”

Julia's voice sounded loud and clear. “Think of everything that Laura has done for this family. She has never betrayed our trust in her. I believe her and will do as she asks. I am asking you both to do the same.”

I could see Stuart wavering.

Julia stood, imposing despite her small stature. “Would you rather we abandoned your house to looters and put your grandfather at risk?”

The two men looked at us as if we had lost our minds. Stuart scooped his hat off the table, and glowered at Julia and me. “I have met mules who were less stubborn than you two women. God help the Yankees if they ever pick a fight with you.” Excusing himself, he left the room, with Charles following in short order.

Julia faced me, her false bravado gone. “Have you any news of Sarah?”

I shook my head. “Not yet. But I won't go anywhere until I know she's all right, and I will let you know. Somehow I will get word to you.”

She surprised me by hugging me. “I don't know how we have survived without you.” Pulling back, she said, “I need to see to Zeke. Before I leave tomorrow, I will have to show you how to make his dressings and how to prepare his medicine. I will also need to come up with a plausible
reason why Sarah isn't with us.” In a rustling of her skirts, she also left the room.

All through the night, the slamming of drawers and trunk lids and the sounds of heavy furniture being dragged across wooden floors shattered the night. I was relieved to see the piano remaining, assuming it was too big to be moved anywhere and thus also safe from the Yankees.

The following morning, I stood staring out the sidelights of the front door, watching Stuart load one of the wooden farm wagons. Soft footsteps approached behind me, the light fragrance of lavender surrounding me.

“He's almost done,” I said. Julia stood beside me and nodded. “What did you tell the men about Sarah?”

She turned and placed her valise on top of a trunk. “I told them she had been invited by Ruth and Josiah Reed to ride to Valdosta with them and their family. They left yesterday.” She took my hand and squeezed it. “Godspeed, Laura. And bring Sarah home.” Her voice cracked, her eyes pooling with tears.

I ignored her reference to home, as if the very word wasn't in dispute.

She let go of my hand and reached into a pocket of her cloak. “I want you to have this. It goes to the secret compartment in the armoire in my bedroom. I am taking the family Bible with me, but I've copied all the family records in here—of births and deaths.” Her eyes bored into mine, and I reached for the object she was handing me. I knew which armoire she was speaking of: the same one that would sit in my bedroom more than 150 years in the future. But I had never known it contained a secret compartment.

“I will put some personal family letters and documents in it. If you do return to your home, you will be able to find out what has become of us all.” Her eyes were misty as she dropped a small, heavy object into my hand. I looked down, my palm burning. Lying in my open palm was a key. A key identical to the one worn around the neck of the woman in the portrait Mrs. Cudahy had given me. “I have one just like it and will keep it locked after I have put everything in it.”

I swallowed to ease my suddenly dry throat. “Thank you, Julia. But
I hope that I can give it back to you in person.” She embraced me tightly, the top of her head resting under my chin and her hair smelling of lavender and wood smoke.

Stuart came in the front door and hoisted the last trunk onto his broad shoulders, his limp no longer discernible. He avoided looking in my direction and left again to put the final piece of luggage on the wagon. From the corner of my eye, a gleam of silver caught my attention. Mrs. Cudahy's tray, forgotten on a hall table. Easy pickings for the marauding army. I grabbed it up and ran out of the house, clutching it to my bosom.

“Wait! You forgot this!”

Stuart jumped down from the wagon. “One of the few unsold pieces of my mother's wedding silver. Thank you.”

Our eyes met in the watery reflection of the smooth silver. “I don't suppose I can change your mind about staying,” he said.

“No. You can't.” I stepped closer. “Do you remember what Zeke told you right after I came here? Something about how you needed to trust me because I would be your salvation? This is the time, Stuart. Regardless of where you think my loyalties lie, you need to believe that I have your and your family's best interests at heart. Staying here with Zeke is something I need to do. I'm not helpless, and I certainly don't need a man around to protect me. Don't worry about me—I can take care of myself. You taught me how to shoot, remember?”

His eyes narrowed into blue slits. “There is an army of about a hundred thousand men who are thinking about heading in this direction, and you are telling me not to worry about you. It is all I can do not to tie you up and throw you in the back of this wagon. Maybe all the jostling on the road to Valdosta would knock some sense into you.”

“I wish we could stop arguing about this. My mind's made up and I won't budge. Can't we just leave it at that and say a proper goodbye?”

He leapt onto the wagon and secured the tray in one of the trunks. I wondered briefly if I would ever see it again in this century.

I thought again of telling him everything, and just as quickly dismissed it from my mind. Sarah's life hung in the balance, as did Stuart's and everybody else's, and there was no doubt in my mind what
Pamela would do if she found out I had confided in him. I looked up at his stormy face and knew that no matter what I said, he didn't really trust me enough to leave this alone.

The gray sky overhead held the chill of the air close to the earth, and the heavy cloud cover threatened rain. I wrapped my shawl tightly around me as Willie ambled out of the house, his eyes downcast. Even the horse seemed subdued. I had said goodbyes many times in my life, but none as painful or as permanent as this one seemed to be.

Julia had gone to the cemetery to say goodbye to Robbie one more time. I wanted to reassure her that she would come back to Roswell at the war's end. All I knew was that her beloved house would survive, but not who would come back to claim it.

“Laura.”

I turned to see Stuart with his arm outstretched. I took his hand and allowed him to lead me across the winter-browned grass to the side of the house. The deceptive dark green of the boxwoods made it seem like spring, but the drab browns and grays of the rest of the fauna reminded me that this was the darkest part of the year.

“No, I am not going to ask you again. I know your mind is made up. But I cannot leave you, in good conscience, without means to protect yourself. I have asked Charles to keep an eye on things here. Let him know if there is anything you need.” He stopped walking and turned to me, his blue stare melting something inside me. “And there is something else.”

He lifted my left hand and I felt cold metal on the tip of my third finger. A gold filigree ring with a stone of black jet slid easily over my knuckle, resting next to Michael's plain gold band.

I stared at it, the smooth surface reflecting the clouds overhead. “What is this?”

“My father gave this to my mother when he proposed to her.” His eyes studied me, as if measuring my reaction. “I am giving this to you for protection.”

My gaze traveled back down to the ring, dark against the paleness of my skin. “How would this protect me?”

His gaze never wavered. “That would depend on which army you have the most to fear. If you marry me, you would become not only the
wife of a Confederate officer, but also the sister-in-law of a Federal officer on General Sherman's staff. You would be covered on all sides.”