The Long Way Home (37 page)

Yours truly,
Colonel James Dorsey

Louisa read the letter for the third time. James Dorsey, a Union colonel, was coming to Twin Oaks. Of course she had seen blue uniforms in Midway, and rumor had it that Frankfort and Lexington were well populated with blue-and-gold soldiers, along with their wives and families. While shopkeepers disdained serving them, the truth was, they were the only ones with money to spend.

What will Zachary say?
More important, what will he do? Louisa climbed back up in the buggy and clucked the horse homeward. At least they had a horse and buggy, thanks to Jefferson, or she, like most of the area folk, would be walking to town. She’d stopped by the neighbors to see what they needed, but with Confederate money being worthless and a frightening shortage of gold coin, everyone was getting along with what they had or going without.

The knot in her stomach that tightened whenever her brother raised his voice twisted now. When would Colonel Dorsey call? Should she warn Zachary? She glanced down at her faded and well-patched skirt. She had one dress in less deplorable condition. Thoughts of all the lovely garments that Carrie Mae took so for granted roused the little demon of jealousy. Perhaps if she had asked, Carrie Mae would have shared some of her things, but pride had kept her quiet. Her sister should have volunteered. Carrie Mae wasn’t intentionally selfish, just thoughtless.

Once out of town, she clucked the horse to a trot. Perhaps the mail addressed to Zachary would lift his mood. While she’d been hoping for letters from Jesselynn and Carrie Mae, she couldn’t deny the tingling joy brought by the one she received.

‘‘I will see him again and have a chance to thank him properly.’’ The horse flicked his ears, listening to her and keeping track of all around him.

When she returned to the log cabin that Lucinda and Joseph had built behind where the summer kitchen used to stand, she tucked the letter away in the box where she kept her writing things. Zachary never came up in the loft where she had a pallet, as climbing the ladder would be next to impossible for him. She hung her bonnet on a peg in the wall and donned her apron. Best get to hoeing. Dreaming over a handsome man never did put victuals on the table.

As each day passed and the warmth of May caused the tobacco plants to shoot up, along with the corn and beans in the garden, Louisa kept one eye on the long drive, waiting for a man in blue to ride up. She trimmed the roses back and weeded the rose garden, in between hoeing the tobacco. In spite of the wide-brimmed straw hat, ventilated by mice, that she had found in the cabin, her face and arms took on the golden hue of one who worked outside.

Two of their former slaves returned, and as they hoed and mended fences, the place took on a more kept appearance.

Everyone walked on tiptoe around Zachary, for no one ever knew what might ignite him in a roaring rage.

‘‘I don’ know what to do wid dat boy.’’ Lucinda watched Zachary’s back as he stomped and stumbled back down to the shed where he kept his bottle under his sleeping pallet. If he slept at all.

‘‘Wish I knew. I’d sure enough tell you.’’ Louisa kneaded her aching back. The weeds in the garden grew far more quickly than the carrots. Before that she’d been out hunting greens so they would have a noon meal. She eyed the rose garden, knowing what still lay deep beneath the soil. Zachary had no idea that the family silver and their mother’s jewelry lay boxed and safe. She had no intention of telling him until the day they could be used again or were needed to save Twin Oaks.

Some days it was harder than others to be thankful for what they did have—food to eat, a roof over their heads, and work that would pay off in the fall. All Zachary could see was what was gone, not what they had. And it was eating him alive.

‘‘You gon’ write to Jesselynn and ask her to bring de horses back?’’ Lucinda sank down on a stool, rubbing her gnarled fingers.

‘‘No. She will do so when she can. Besides, what use would stallions be when we have no mares?’’

‘‘Dey be runnin’ at Keeneland dis year?’’

‘‘I don’t think so. At least I’ve not heard of it. But then, if Zachary knew, he wouldn’t tell me anyway.’’ Keeping the bitterness out of her mind and voice took real gumption at times.
Lord, forgive my judging spirit. You sure have to love this brother of mine for me, ’cause at times like this, all I want to do is haul off and smack him with that crutch—or something heavier
.

She turned to wash her greens when movement down the lane caught her attention. The sun glinted on gold buttons and bars on a blue uniform.

‘‘Oh!’’ She looked down at her skirt, knees dirty from grubbing in the dirt. ‘‘I have to change clothes. We have company coming.’’ She dashed inside, disappeared behind the screen in the corner, and whipped off her skirt and waist. She’d hung her remaining dress on a hook, just in case, and now pulled it over her head. Her fingers shook as she fastened the buttons, while her mind told her it could be someone else coming down the road.

But her heart knew differently.

She stepped out the door as he dismounted from a horse that looked as if it could have been bred and raised at Twin Oaks. Reins over his arm, he removed his gray felt hat. The smile that carved his cheeks seemed only for her. He was more handsome than she remembered.

‘‘Miss Highwood, good day.’’

‘‘Yes, it is a fine day.’’ Her tongue adhered itself to the roof of her mouth. She knotted her shaking hands in her skirt.
Say something, you ninny
.

‘‘I’m sorry for all your losses.’’

Was he having as much trouble talking as she?

‘‘Yes, thank you.’’

Lucinda cleared her throat behind her. ‘‘Ah . . .’’ What could she offer him? ‘‘Would you like a drink of fresh springwater?’’

‘‘Yes, thank you.’’ A smile tugged at the side of his mouth.

‘‘Ah, good. Have a seat, please.’’

Lucinda harrumphed. ‘‘Here he come.’’ While a whisper, the shock of it sent Louisa into a panic. Why did Zachary have to see this? Why couldn’t he be sleeping off his drunk like he so often did?

‘‘Louisa, get in the house!’’ The war injuries hadn’t affected her brother’s voice. It cut like glass.

Louisa tucked her chin, forced a smile to her trembling lips, and nodded to the bench beside the house. ‘‘I’ll get that drink for you.’’

‘‘You needn’t, you know.’’

‘‘Yes, but I do.’’ She lifted the cheesecloth from the drinking bucket they kept in the shade and dipped him out a cupful, handing it to him with a steadier smile.

‘‘What are you doin’ here, you—?’’

Louisa’s ears turned hot at the name he’d used. ‘‘Forgive my brother, sir, he knows not what he does.’’

‘‘Oh, I think he does.’’ Dorsey handed the empty cup back to her. ‘‘I had to make sure you were all right.’’

‘‘We are doing the best we can.’’

‘‘Get off my land, you—’’ More epithets.

Louisa tightened her jaw and straightened her spine. ‘‘Zachary, I ask you to be polite to a guest here. Mama would—’’

‘‘Our mother is dead and gone, and I won’t have any murderin’, thievin’ bluebelly contaminatin’ this soil.’’ Zachary stumbled and caught himself. ‘‘Get out of here before I get my gun, and you’ll never leave.’’ His words slurred, and spittle flew in front of him. Unshaven, hair sticking every whichway, he looked as deranged as he acted.

‘‘Zachary Highwood, Colonel Dorsey only came to inquire as to how we are. If you can’t keep a civil tongue in your head, just return to your room until this visit is over.’’ Louisa couldn’t believe those words had come out of her own mouth.

But when Zachary raised his crutch as if to strike her, she stepped back, only to find herself staring into a blue-clad back.

‘‘You strike her, and cripple or not, I’ll see you don’t strike anyone ever again.’’

Zachary caught himself and propped his crutch firmly back under his arm. ‘‘Get off my land.’’

‘‘The war is over. I’m here to help you Southerns—’’

‘‘You’re not here to help nobody. You bled us on the battlefield, and now you’ll bleed us again.’’ Zachary took two steps forward.

Louisa stepped from behind the blue wall and looked up at the man beside her. ‘‘You had better go. As you can see, we are doing as well as can be expected.’’

‘‘May I call on you again?’’ The look in his eyes set her heart to fluttering.

‘‘No, you may not!’’ Zachary screamed the words. If he’d been a cottonmouth, he would have struck.

‘‘Yes!’’ She swallowed hard.

‘‘You lyin’ witch. You see this man again, and I’ll kill you.’’

‘‘Would he?’’

‘‘No.’’ But the uncertainty must have shown on her face.

‘‘I can get you protection in town.’’

‘‘Go with him, then. Who needs you here, anyway?’’ Zachary swayed on his feet and lurched forward. ‘‘I’ll kill you both.’’

‘‘I cannot leave you like this.’’

‘‘Just go. We’ll be all right.’’

Dorsey turned toward his horse, then back. ‘‘No, come with me now.’’

‘‘I . . . I can’t. Please, don’t ask me to.’’

‘‘This wasn’t the way I hoped to do this, but Louisa, I love you. Come with me, and we will be married in the morning.’’

Louisa felt her jaw drop. Her clasped hands flew to her throat. Her heart raced as though she’d been running for hours. ‘‘M-marry you?’’

‘‘Go with him, then. And don’t ever come back. You are dead to me. Get out!’’

Oh, Lord . . .
She took one more look at her brother, nodded, and met the warm gaze of James Dorsey. ‘‘I’ll get my things.’’

‘‘You take nothin’. Just get.’’

Louisa turned to Lucinda, whose tear-tracked face wore the sorrows of forever. ‘‘Please get my Bible for me and the packet of letters.’’ She lowered her voice. ‘‘I will keep in touch.’’

They rode out the long lane with Zachary shouting imprecations after them. By the time they reached the ancient oaks, Louisa could no longer hold back the tears. Up the road a piece, James Dorsey swung his leg over the pommel and dropped to the ground, reaching up to lift Louisa into his arms. Murmuring comfort and endearments, he stroked her hair until her sobs lessened. She nestled against his chest, hearing his strong heartbeat against her ear.

‘‘You know that every man I’ve become attached to has been killed in the war?’’

‘‘No, I didn’t know that. But now that I have you, I’ll be sure to watch my back.’’

‘‘How about your front?’’ She drew back to see a water stain the size of a dinner plate on his uniform. ‘‘Good thing this is wool, so my tears won’t show.’’ She looked up to see his eyes crinkle in a smile so tender, she caught her breath. ‘‘You were really serious about loving me? That wasn’t just to chase off Zachary?’’

‘‘Oh, no, ma’am. I’ve been wanting to come find you since that day at the prison. I figured any woman who would offer to give her life for her brother’s would make a wonderful wife and mother. That you are so beautiful and sweet and caring and—’’ She laid a finger against his lips. ‘‘I believe you.’’

‘‘Do you think . . . ah, that perhaps . . . ah . . .’’

She watched red heat travel up his neck and face. ‘‘Why, Colonel, you’re blushing.’’ Her laughter tinkled like wind chimes on the breeze.

He sighed. ‘‘What I want to say is . . .’’ He paused again. ‘‘Do you think you could learn to love me?’’

‘‘Oh, I think the learning has already begun, some time ago, in fact. When your letters made my heart go pittypat, I told myself to stay away from military men, because they always get shot. Made me begin to think I was the kiss of death, not that all of them kissed me, mind you, but it’s the thought.’’ She sighed and in the sigh let go of all the fears she’d been holding in. ‘‘Could you hold me close again, sir? Your arms are indeed most comforting.’’

They were married late that afternoon by a chaplain known to Colonel Dorsey.

June 1865

Dear Sister,

I have both wonderful news and terrible news. In fact there is much to be thankful for. We planted five acres of tobacco, thanks to some seed Zachary was able to find. And thanks to Jefferson and Carrie Mae, the taxes are paid. So we will be able to keep our
home.

Or rather, Zachary will. I’m sorry to say that he has banished me from Twin Oaks. When Colonel Dorsey came calling, Zachary threw him off the place. And when I stood up for the man who helped save our brother’s life on that horrible trip to Washington, our dear brother, and I say this with great sorrow, threw me off the place too. James and I were married that afternoon, and now I shall accompany him west where he will be stationed at Fort Kearney, Nebraska. His orders were changed so quickly. I can’t help but believe God’s hand is directing us. How far is Fort Kearney from where you live? Is there some way we can meet together? I would so love to see your family. As I said, I am both sad and happy.

Please pray for Zachary, as he is drinking far more than is good
for him, and he is so bitter that he is driving all his friends away.

Love from your married sister,
Louisa

P.S. I cannot wait for you to meet James again. He speaks so well of you, and sometimes I tease him that he married the wrong sister.
Isn’t it strange the directions our lives have taken, and all because of the war.

Your loving sister,
Mrs. James Dorsey

July 1865

Dear Louisa,

I am so glad for your joy and happiness. Reading a letter from you reminds me so much of Mama that I can scarce read for the tears. At Fort Kearney you are half of Nebraska and part of Wyoming away. Should you ever be quartered at Fort Laramie, I could ride there in two days. That is how long it takes us to deliver the
horses we sell to the army and to get supplies.

Things are tense here due to the battles between the army and the Indians. I pray that your colonel will be safe and not have to fight again. This war, like the other I believe, could be stopped if men would learn to sit down and talk instead of shooting off both their mouths and their guns. Wolf does what he can to help our Sioux friends and family have enough to eat and adapt to the white man’s ways. I know that God made us all equal, none better than another because of skin color or family, but all loved by our Father
in heaven.