Daughter of Twin Oaks (20 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

On the Mississippi River

“Benjamin and Domino fell in!”

The oars stopped. Shouts filled the air. Ahab whinnied, just about breaking Jesselynn’s eardrums. The ferry drifted downriver.

“Can you see him?” Jesselynn didn’t dare leave her post at Ahab’s head to go see for herself, or everything might end up in the river.

“Lawd, Lawd, we’s comin’ home,” Ophelia added to the din. The boys’ cries could be heard from the back of the wagon.

A string of expletives came from the ferry owner at the rear. “Pull, you fools, or we’ll end up on a sandbar. Row!”

Oh, God, not Benjamin. Let him live. The shore isn’t that far
, Jesselynn pleaded over and over in her mind while she kept up a steady murmur that calmed both herself and the horses.

“ ’Phelia, enough!” Meshach’s command cut off the blubbering like blowin’ out a candle. “Good. Now take care of de boys.”

“I is.”

Benjamin, where are you, Benjamin?
Jesselynn and Benjamin had grown up together, playing games in the orchard and snitching cookies from Lucinda’s baking only to run off laughing when scolded. He couldn’t be gone, not after living through the war and bringing her daddy home to die. He’d saved her father, and right now she could do nothing to save him.

The ferry moved ahead again and within minutes bumped into the packed sand of the shoreline.

Ahab shifted at the jolt, and Jesselynn clamped the reins under his bit even tighter. “Easy, son.” She resumed her reassuring murmur as two of the oarsmen slid planks in place for them to disembark. Meshach led his horses off first, then Sunshine, before coming back to lead the team down the incline. Once they were all on the ground, Ahab shook himself, setting harness and chains to rattling.

“Sorry as I kin be ’bout that other horse and your boy. I wouldn’t give up hope, though. They mighta swum in.” Mister Jed shook Jesselynn’s hand and motioned his hands to ready the ferry for the return. “Floatin’ logs and such are the hazards of night crossin’.”

“I understand. Thank you for the service.” Jesselynn climbed up on the wagon seat and clucked the team forward. “Meshach, you go look that way, and Daniel, you go downriver.” When the two riders took off, she turned to the woman still whimpering in the back of the wagon. “Ophelia, if you don’t stop that, I’ll send you back across the river.”

“There’s a road back up thata way,” Jed called as he poled the ferry back out into the current.

Once on firmer ground, Jesselynn stopped the wagon and got out again, this time to remove the stone that Meshach had wedged in Ahab’s hoof to make him limp. Last thing they needed now was a truly lame horse. Once moving again, the horse and mule leaned into their collars as the wheels rolled through shallow sand. She slapped the reins to keep them pulling forward, sure that if they stopped, the wheels would sink. Between Ophelia’s continued sniffling, the boys’ whimpering, Benjamin’s getting lost, and not knowing where the road was, Jesselynn wanted to do nothing more than run screaming down the road or hide her head under a blanket and sleep until life improved.

Where was the road? Surely they hadn’t drifted that far off course.

Just as she recognized a lighter spot in the woods as the break for the road, she heard a horse cough, the kind of cough induced by the herb that Meshach had given Domino.

“Benjamin?” She raised her voice and called again. “Benjamin?”

Ahab nickered, and a horse answered, then trotted out of the darkness to meet them. The filly tied to the tailgate joined in the welcome, and Jesselynn tightened the reins enough to stop the team. Flipping the reins around the brake pole, she vaulted to the ground and dashed to the end of the wagon before slowing and picking up the cadence of her soothing murmur. Domino flung his head up, then at her familiar song, nosed her outstretched hand and let her grab his reins.

“Oh, Lawd, you took Benjamin down to de depths of de river, and now he’s home wid you. Lawsy, lawsy.” Ophelia’s crying and moaning renewed the wailing of the two boys, who might have dozed off again had she not started anew.

Jesselynn felt around in the wagon bed until she located a lead shank. She snapped it to the horse’s halter, then removed the watersoaked bridle. As long as her hands kept busy, she could keep at bay the thought of Benjamin drowning.

If Ophelia didn’t shut up, she was going to scream.

“Ophelia, stop! I can’t hear myself think.” In the ensuing quiet, she listened hard. Was that a horse she heard coming from the river? Scant seconds later, she heard Meshach call her name.

“Marse Jesse, I found ’im. Benjamin be alive.”

“Oh, thank you, blessed Lawd.”

This time Jesselynn didn’t try to quiet Ophelia; rather she wanted to join in, but instead, she ran back on the road to meet Meshach.

“Praise de Lawd, Marse Jesse, our boy done be saved.”

Benjamin slid off the back of the horse and right into her arms.

He raised his head enough to ask, “Is … D-Domino all right?”

“Yes.”

At her answer he straightened, then bent over coughing until he vomited up half the river.

Jesselynn put her arm around his waist and half dragged him back to the wagon, where Meshach had his horse tied by this time. The big man lifted the smaller and, gentle as a mother with her baby, laid him on the quilts Ophelia spread out.

“I get dem wet.” Benjamin tried to rise, but Jesselynn put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back down. “Just rest for now. Soon as Daniel catches up, we’ll see where this road goes.”

Meshach dried off the younger stallion while Ophelia and Jesselynn rubbed Benjamin until he no longer shook from cold and exhaustion. With him and the boys asleep in the wagon bed, Jesselynn leaned against a wheel, growing more restless by the moment. They were right out in the middle of a road with land flatter than Lucinda’s hot cakes stretching on either side of them. While the moon didn’t show much light, other than the willows and cottonwoods along the river, the land looked bare.

Ahab whinnied, and a horse answered. At the same moment, she heard a horse trotting toward them from the river. Ahab whinnied again.

“You’re better’n a watchdog.” Jesselynn joined Meshach at the back of the wagon. “Think it’s him?”

“A’course. Ahab done say so.”

“Sorry, Marse, I din’t find nary horse nor—”

“I found ’im,” Meshach interrupted the rush of words.

“Thank de Lawd.”

“Benjamin’s sleepin’ in the wagon. Domino here is all right too. We’re glad you’re back. Now we can go on.” Jesselynn patted Daniel on the knee and swung up onto the wagon seat. “Now, let’s find us a place to camp.”

Jesselynn woke that afternoon when the sun had crept past the high point. The willow branches had shielded her up to then, but the sun in her eyes made further sleep impossible. She stretched and tossed her quilt aside. Today she would write home and tell them that she and her band were now safe in Missouri. Surely Dunlivey would not track them there, and even if he could, they would soon disappear in the oak and hickory forests her uncle had written about those years ago. He’d passed through them and broke land on the prairie for his horse farm. She’d read his letters before she left home, not that there were too many of them.

Taking paper and the ink bottle, then sharpening a quill, she accepted the coffee Ophelia brought her and began to write. She covered two sheets before signing Jesse Highwood and blowing on the still-damp signature. She stared at it, shaking her head. Seemed like she’d been a male now for longer than three weeks, as if her life had begun the night they fled Twin Oaks. While folding the letter, her thoughts roamed to the homeplace. Surely all the Burley was cut by now and hanging to dry in the barn. It shouldn’t be long before it could be stripped and packed in the hogsheads for transporting to Frankfort.

They’d always held a celebration when the tobacco was sold. All the neighbors joined in too. There was dancing and tables groaning with delicious food. Her stomach rumbled at the thought of all the spicy boiled shrimp, the sweet potato pie that Lucinda was known for, biscuits lighter than a cloud. Her stomach rumbled louder.

She finished addressing the envelope and went in search of a dab of flour and water to paste the flap shut. While she’d brought her father’s sealing ring, she’d neglected to bring the sealing wax.

“You want to go into Charleston with me?” She paused by where Meshach was cleaning the harnesses and bridles.

He shook his head. “I needs to grease de axles and tighten up de shaft. ’Sides, no one recognize Daniel.”

“You don’t think …”

“No sense takin’ chances. We come too far for dat.”

The hairs up the back of her neck stood at attention. And here she’d just been congratulating herself on getting away and was beginning to feel safe.

“Take de mule. De horses need more grazin’ time and a rest.”

Jesselynn sighed. When would they really be free?

A short time later they trotted into town double mounted, both of them leaning back to keep from being jostled to bits by the mule’s sledgehammer trot. The bony ridge of his back didn’t help either. They both sighed when they slid off behind some buildings.

Daniel rubbed his seat. “I think he do dat on purpose.”

“What? Trot harder?” Jesselynn grinned. “Might be. You go that way, and I’ll try this way. Just stop and listen to people talkin’. Like you used to do at home.”

Daniel tried to look affronted but laughed instead. “Don’ you go leavin’ me behind now.”

“Then be back when the sun goes behind that willow tree over there.” She nodded to a tree that had obviously outlived many a flood.

Jesselynn located the post office first thing, mailed her letter, then strolled across the dirt street to the store where several men had gathered.

She dug in her pocket and pulled out a jackknife to begin cleaning the dirt from under her fingernails. With her rear tight against the porch floor, she hoped she was as invisible as she felt.

The more they talked, the more her stomach churned. There were more skirmishes going on in Missouri than in Kentucky, and the fighting had started earlier. Why hadn’t she known that? She could answer that question before thinking. They’d been so isolated at Twin Oaks that until the army took the horses away they’d not been much bothered by the war.

One thing for sure, they’d not be going north to try to hook up with the Wire Road. Whyever they called it that was beyond her. When the talk turned to the bands of deserters who were terrorizing the countryside under the guise of Confederate soldiers, her throat went dry. She’d heard about Quantrill’s Raiders in the last town, but they were said to be more in the Kansas City area. Springfield was a far cry from Kansas City.

At least Dunlivey was on the other side of the river. If she’d reminded herself of that once, it had been ten times. It wasn’t hard to picture him as the head of a band of raiders. But he’d been an officer in the Confederate army the last time she’d seen him. Then what had he been doing in that tavern? Of course the army did move their forces around.

The argument kept up in her mind apace with the cussing and discussing on the porch. When they began in on “that nigger lover in the White House,” she sidled away. Her father had a great deal of respect for President Lincoln, and therefore she did too.
“One nation under God, the way the United States had been founded, and the way it should stay.”
She could hear her father’s words as plainly as if he were walking beside her.

Checking the angle of the sun, she moseyed back to where they’d tied the mule. Daniel sat with his back against the wall, chewing on the end of a stalk of grass. Jesselynn swung aboard and braced her foot for him to use as a step to swing up. Once he’d settled behind her, she turned the mule back the way they’d come and headed out.

“What’d you hear?” she asked when they were out in the country again.

“Dem folks sure don’ like Marse Lincum.”

“I heard that too. What else?”

“Bad sojers about. Man in tavern laughin’ him head off ’bout dem hangin’ a runaway slave.”

“Where?”

“Don’ know.”

“This side of the river?”

“I guess. Dey talkin’ ’bout Missouri.”

Jesselynn looked up to see if the despair settling over her wasn’t a cloud in the sky instead, but the sun still shone as it sank closer to the horizon.

What if someone found their camp and wouldn’t believe Meshach when he said they were free blacks?

Chapter Twenty-Four

Richmond, Virginia

“I can’t believe I’m in a
real
house.”

Louisa folded back the sheet over her brother and smoothed it into place. Her eyes burned at the relief she heard in his voice and the way his hand repeatedly smoothed the sheets.

“Where’s Aunt Sylvania?”

“Helpin’ the neighbors get their boys settled in. She’ll be home soon for supper.” She turned to see Private Rumford, dark hair falling in his eyes, sitting in the chair by the window where they had put him. Not looking out—just not looking.
Tomorrow
, she promised herself,
tomorrow he will be out in the garden here, and I know that will make a difference
. The thought of the lieutenant living in the house next door set her pulse to tripping.

“And Carrie Mae, where is she?”

“Off with her betrothed, I believe.”
As if she were ever anywhere else. You’d think they were already married
.

“When’s the wedding to be?”

Louisa thought for a moment. “Why, it’s only two weeks away. Where has the time gone?”

Zach studied her for a long moment.

She could feel it even though she resisted looking into his one good eye. Somehow she knew he was going to ask a question that either she wouldn’t like or would have no idea how to answer. She heard the front door opening and gave a sigh of relief. Saved by Aunt Sylvania. When she started to rise, Zach laid his hand on hers.

“What are you going to do about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?”

“The hospital. I don’t like the idea of you workin’ there.”

“I don’t
work
there. I volunteer there.” She could feel her face begin to heat up, let alone her temper. “What difference does it make to you?”

“Well, you …” He glanced over at the corporal and shook his head. “We’ll talk about this later.” Like hers, his accent broadened when he grew agitated.

“Private, would you like to join us at the supper table?” Aunt Sylvania appeared in the doorway, smiling her welcome to their guest. “Cook is fixin’ plates for the others.” She crossed to Zachary’s bed. “Do you need help, nephew, or can you manage on your own?”

“He needs …”

“I can manage.” Zachary and Louisa spoke at the same time.

“Well, which is it?”

“If someone will help prop me up, I imagine it is time I continue learning to use my other hand.” He lifted his left hand. “Shame I didn’t learn to shoot with either hand like Adam did.”

“Lot of good it did him.” Louisa was as surprised at her comment as the other two. Surely shooting with either or both hands hadn’t been instrumental in getting her older brother killed in action, but then it hadn’t saved him either. To carry the thought to a logical conclusion, cannonballs and artillery shells didn’t discriminate. She spun on her heel, her skirts swishing in the speed with which she left the room.

More and more she was learning how much she resented the war—and the men who’d been so vainglorious about whipping the Yankees in two weeks. No wonder Jesselynn had taken the horses away from home. They’d need something to rebuild with when this massacre was over.

Maybe she’d read the letters to Zachary after supper so he could know what all had transpired since he’d left home. Come to think of it, strange that he’d not questioned her about Twin Oaks. Of course, she’d told him about their daddy dying, so maybe that was all he wanted to know for now.

Soon though, soon they could go home. Even if Zachary was badly crippled, he would find things to do at Twin Oaks. Surely he’d be able to manage getting around with crutches or maybe just one. And anyone could learn to use the opposite hand.

Curious, she assigned herself the task at the supper table.

“Whatever is the matter, child?” Aunt Sylvania stared at the gravy blob staining the white linen tablecloth.

“I … I was trying to cut my meat with my left hand. The knife slipped.” Using her napkin, Louisa dabbed at the spreading blob.

“Whyever for?” Sylvania sent Private Rumford a questioning glance, but he never looked her way. He did clean up his plate, however, without anyone prompting him. Since sometimes at the hospital she’d hand-fed him when he paid no attention to his food, Louisa felt a stir of pleasure.

“Well, since Zach will have to learn to use his other hand, I … I wanted to see how difficult it would be. But I have two hands, so really it isn’t the same after all.” Her words came in a rush.

Her aunt’s “tsk-tsk” sent a shot of stiffener up Louisa’s spine.

“We can’t wait on him forever. Like he said, it’s time he began to try things on his own.”

“We shall see.”

Louisa studied her aunt. Instead of looking worn-out as she’d been the few days before, the new responsibility seemed to be bringing the older woman back to her earlier energy. She, too, had cleaned up her plate, rather than picking at her food, which had become the norm. Pink had reclaimed its place on her cheeks, and the pallor of the past weeks seemed in retreat.

“Perhaps you would like to read to the men tonight? They missed out on their chapters of Shakespeare since we were moving them at the time I usually read. I always read a psalm or two and a chapter from one of Paul’s letters.”

“Why, I reckon I might just do that.” Sylvania nodded her approval at the tray of desserts Abby showed her. “See how my nephew is doing too, will you, please? Peach cobbler has always been his favorite dessert.”

“I thought the peaches were gone.” Louisa shrugged at her aunt’s innocent look. Life had always been like that. Her brothers were treated like royalty by Aunt Sylvania, and the girls were made to mind. Surely that wasn’t fair, but then, as her mother had always said,
“God didn’t promise life would be fair.”

After supper, when she had Sylvania set up in the hallway to read so she could be heard in both rooms, Louisa wandered out on the front porch to catch any breeze that had come up. Not sure why she didn’t head for the garden as was her wont, she settled into the rocker, setting it into motion with the push of her foot.

A young boy and a girl ran by laughing, the pong of their sticks on the hoops rolling in front of them adding to their merriment. A flycatcher called from swooping about the trees. A squirrel chattered in the elm directly in front of the house. She caught sight of him descending the tree in quick bursts of speed.

The chair creaked its own song. Louisa sighed and leaned her head back against the cushion, remembering home … the slaves singing down in the quarters, and Jesselynn sitting on the veranda, busy with some kind of needlework.

As you should be doing
.

The thought brought her foot to the floor. Wasting time like this! What in the world was the matter with her? And how come she kept thinking of home so much today anyway? But with Jesselynn gone, someone should be there to keep things running. After all, could the slaves—she had to remind herself that their people weren’t slaves any longer, thanks to the papers Jesselynn had given them—could their
workers
keep the place running without someone overseeing them?

“Good evenin’.”

The male voice so near brought her hand to her throat.

“Why, land sakes, you need to sneak up on a body that way?”

“I didn’t sneak up on you. I came to check on my men.” The lieutenant straightened his shoulders in spite of the crutches.

“Oh.” Bringing her mind back from Twin Oaks took some doing. Now, if a man like this came calling there, he would be treated—Louisa cut off her thought. She was getting tired of her face flaming at the slightest provocation. The man in front of her was the lieutenant, coming to check on his men, not a potential suitor.

A buggy pulled up at the street and the two laughing occupants stepped down, or rather, her sister was handed down by her adoring fiancé, who had learned to use his one arm to an advantage. No morose scarecrow he. As the two of them came up the walk, the lieutenant glanced their way, then gave Louisa one of his formal stares.

“My men?”

“Ah yes.” Louisa started for the door when Carrie Mae, who had taken her eyes off her escort long enough to see her sister and the lieutenant, spoke.

“Why, Louisa, I see you have comp’ny.” Carrie Mae’s soft Kentucky accent had turned entirely Virginian since their arrival.

“Ah, n-no. The lieutenant is j-just here on business.” Since when had she taken up stuttering?

Carrie Mae paused at the bottom of the steps. “Are you not going to introduce us?”

Oh, sugarcane and cotton combined
. Louisa thought two of her most vitriolic incantations, all the while keeping what she hoped was a smile on her face. She turned to Jefferson Steadly, Carrie Mae’s fiancé. “Pardon my manners, Mr. Steadly.”

“Since we are about to become related, surely you could call me by my given name by now.”

“All right.”
Let’s just get this over with
. “Jefferson, this is Lieutenant …” For the life of her, she couldn’t remember his last name. Had she ever heard him called anything but the lieutenant?

The lieutenant straightened and extended his right hand. “I’m Gilbert Lessling, First Lieutenant of the Second North Carolina Rifles.” He nodded. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Highwood. Miz Highwood here has spoken of you often.”

The floor couldn’t open and swallow her soon enough.