Chapter One

The staccato rhythm of horse’s hooves outside the window drew Clara’s head up sharply from her needlepoint. Placing it aside, she moved to the window to observe the scene in the field below. A sinking feeling grew in the pit of her stomach as she watched the exchange between Jeremiah and his brother. From the way Charlie brandished the newspaper, she knew the war they’d been dreading had finally come.

Her father-in-law would discourage rash enlistment, she was certain. Francis Turner was a level-headed man, always pointing to compromise and embracing peace. Her husband was like him in many ways, and she found comfort in that. Perhaps the conflict would end quickly, and Jeremiah would never need to be involved in it.

Although attention to politics wasn’t considered a feminine pursuit, there had been no avoiding the rants and discussions which had engrossed first her father’s home, and now her husband’s. Like any mistress of the house, Clara had been taught the value of needle-point and the necessity of managing household affairs with efficiency and grace.

But these accomplishments did not preclude her from reading the newspaper when the men left it behind, or listening with an attentive ear to the discussions which ensued during meals. While intelligence wasn’t commonly celebrated as a feminine attribute, Clara saw no reason not to gather information and come to her own conclusions.

Her father, George Collins, was a merchant involved in the trade of goods at the Centreville Wharf. He had a successful business, and Clara had often watched the cargo ships as they were loaded or unloaded before sailing off to ports in Baltimore and Norfolk. Like most men of Queen Anne’s County, her father had sided with those in favor of States Rights, the Democratic Party, and the continuation of the social structure which predominated Maryland’s Eastern Shore, if not the majority of the state.

Her father-in-law took a more moderate approach and argued from both sides of the disagreement in pursuit of a peaceful compromise. Jeremiah was naturally inclined to agree with the general climate but was heavily influenced by his father’s perspective. Jeremiah didn’t favor war, but hoped that men’s ability to reason would allow them to settle on an acceptable resolution to the disagreements which seemed to grow greater with each passing month.

In Clara’s mind, the use of force to maintain order seemed barbaric in the present age when trains flew over steel rails and telegraphs clicked out messages over wires, where sewing machines could weave the needle and thread for you and images could be captured for all time through use of a camera. They were a civilized people, and killing one another to resolve a conflict seemed both primitive and senseless.

The threat of war had been hanging over their heads for years now, although for most of that time Clara had either been too young or too preoccupied to pay attention to it. But when South Carolina had seceded from the Union only five days after her wedding, she felt as if a dark thundercloud had scudded over the blue skies of her world, threatening to shatter life as she knew it.

When South Carolina withdrew from the Union, she declared herself as separate and sovereign. The controversy which had boiled beneath the surface for years had finally turned from rhetoric into action, a spark which would invariably detonate a catastrophic reaction.

Clara remembered that day very clearly. With her hands folded numbly in her lap, Clara had listened to the Turner men analyze this pivotal turn of events.

“I don’t see how war can be avoided now,” Francis had told his sons sadly. “Other Southern states will secede, and I don’t think Lincoln’s going to let them break away as easily as that.”

“They’ve found ways to compromise and restore peace in the past,” Jeremiah offered hopefully, “perhaps they will again.”

“Not this time,” Charlie countered, shaking his head. His hair glimmered bronze in the candlelight, and his eyes, as blue as his father’s, were sincere as he continued, “It’s bigger than just South Carolina this time. It’s bigger than just the South. The Federal Government’s not playing fair, not following the Constitution, and not considering the welfare of all the people under it. It’s time for change. And if it can’t come peacefully, change will come with a heavy hand.”

“We’ll see,” Francis answered evenly, evaluating the wisdom of his son’s words. “I say let us pray that whatever change must come, can come peacefully.”

Clara had bowed her head and earnestly prayed for war to be averted.

But within a matter of months, six states had followed South Carolina and seceded from the Union to create a new form of government under The Articles of Confederation. First Mississippi, then Florida and Alabama, followed by Georgia, Louisiana, and finally Texas.

A peace conference was held in February to try to mend the rift between North and South, but without success. The seceding states took claim to the Federal properties within their boundaries, and the incumbent President Buchanan took no action against them. Both sides felt justified in laying claim to Fort Sumter, and all efforts to resolve their dispute resulted in increasing the tension rather than alleviating it.

After Lincoln took office, his efforts to resupply Fort Sumter were met with resistance, and full-scale military engagement resulted on April 12th. The battle had continued to wage for two more days, with the whole of the nation holding their breath to see which side would claim the victory in this epic battle of new government against old.

As Clara watched Jeremiah snap the reins and fall into step behind the mule-drawn plough, her stomach knotted with fear. Clara could only surmise from Charlie’s excited response that the Rebels had taken Fort Sumter. Her view through the glass faded into a tearful blur as her eyes followed Jeremiah in the cornfield below, the sun golden on his bare forearms and his face shadowed beneath the wide-brimmed felt hat.

Her hand fluttered to her heart as an ache grew in her chest at the very thought of her husband marching into war. They hadn’t even been married six months.

~

If Jeremiah’s mother, Henrietta Turner, had still been alive, talk of politics during mealtimes would have been strictly prohibited. However, in the five years since she had passed, the gentility of her influence had slowly disappeared.

“Now every state’s going to have to choose which side they’re on,” Francis reflected as he scooped a helping of Mamie’s chicken pot pie onto his plate. “Lincoln’s put the choice on the table: Either send volunteers to fight the insurrection, or join it.”

Reaching for a biscuit, Jeremiah narrowed his thick brows as he asked, “What do you think Maryland will do?”

“All the talk I’ve heard is for secession,” Francis admitted. “It appears we’ll be siding with the South.”

Charlie forked a mouthful of the steaming pot pie into his mouth, talking around it. “As well we should!”

“I’m not so sure,” Jeremiah countered quietly, his earlier zeal having lessened with reflection. “It all depends on how much support the Confederacy gets. If it’s a question of seven states against twenty-seven—a handful of rebels against a trained military, it doesn’t seem like a wise gamble.”

In response to his brother’s calm reply, Charlie’s temper also cooled. “If Maryland joins, that’ll be eight. It’s likely North Carolina and Virginia will go, and there’s talk of Tennessee following. That makes eleven. And I wouldn’t be surprised if others followed. It’s possible that the nation could split right down the middle—unraveling like a flag whose seams are frayed around the edges of the stars being cut from it.”

Francis slathered a biscuit with butter, conceding, “At this point, I’d say anything’s possible.”

Jeremiah observed his wife’s expression across the table as her delicate brows drew together in concern. Rather than being offended by the political conversation, Clara seemed engaged and curious. Her almond eyes flitted from one face to the other, taking in the information quietly.

He reached between the basket of warm biscuits and the blue Wedgewood butter dish to lay his hand over hers, gently squeezing her fingers. He wished he could offer words of comfort: “Don’t worry. Everything will turn out all right.” But he knew such assurances to be a lie, and false comfort was no comfort at all in the long run.

Jeremiah didn’t blame Clara for being afraid. Truth be told, they were all afraid. None of them wanted to see the nation divided, afflicted with war and painted red with blood. The men hid their dread behind bluster and bravado, not wanting to be perceived as cowards. But Jeremiah didn’t want to take up arms and fight any more than his wife wanted him to. He was content with the life of a farmer, always having assumed he would live out his days at Laurel Hill, fattening hogs and turkeys and growing corn and wheat.

Clara’s lips parted as if she wished to speak, but Charlie’s continued discourse silenced her.

“If the Confederacy can get enough support, it has a fighting chance,” Jeremiah’s younger brother insisted. “There’s more than just cotton that comes from the South, although that alone is enough to give them some leverage. Not to mention that farmers, hunters, and cowboys are far more experienced with a gun than a bunch of New England scholars. And don’t forget that the President of the Confederacy, Jefferson Davis, served as Secretary of War for four years.”

Clara parted her lips again, but still hesitated. “What is it?” Jeremiah encouraged.

She blushed, unsure about participating in the conversation. “I just—I wondered, is secession Constitutional? I read in the newspaper that there’s nothing saying a state can’t leave the Union in the same way it joined—by choice. If that’s the case, why is it being called insurrection?”

Jeremiah felt a flush of pride at the intelligence her question revealed. Not every man would find his wife’s interest in politics appealing, but Jeremiah didn’t want a woman who could be no more than an ornamental attachment on his arm.

“That’s an excellent question, my dear,” he replied. “And that’s part of the problem: the answer isn’t clear. Since the Articles of Confederation predate the Constitution—and it was not a vote by Congress, but by the individual states, which replaced it—it stands to reason that each state could choose to revert back to the Articles if they so wished. However, others argue that by accepting the Constitution, the states forfeited their sovereignty and became an inseparable part of the Union forever.”

“Keep in mind,” Charlie interjected, “that Texas was annexed—they didn’t join voluntarily. Likewise, Missouri was bought from France in the Louisiana Purchase.”

“So…” her brows scrunched together in consideration, “it’s not illegal—it’s just not allowed?”

Francis leaned his elbows on the table, expanding on his son’s answer. “Divorce is legal, but if an abusive man refuses to let his wife leave him, she’s either going to have to run away in the night or hit him over the head with a frying pan. Sometimes it’s more about power than it is about legality.”

“Ah,” Clara nodded in understanding.

“So we’re using the frying pan,” Charlie grinned at his father’s domestic analogy.

Francis offered his daughter-in-law a sheepish grin, then added, “The question of power verses legality is key. Is President Lincoln like that husband, holding on to his wife’s wrists simply because he doesn’t want to let her out from under his thumb?”

“I’m worried he’s going to go after her and drag her back by the hair,” Jeremiah admitted. “It doesn’t mean it’s morally right for her to stay; just that it makes more practical sense and offers her a better chance of survival.”

Silence fell heavily around the table as everyone considered the implications of this possibility.

The following day’s newspaper announced that Virginia had indeed broken away from the Union to join the Confederate States. “More will follow,” Charlie promised.

Four days later, a riot erupted in Baltimore. Union troops were traveling through the city en route to secure Washington when a Massachusetts regiment in the process of transfer between railroad stations was blocked passage by Southern sympathizers, who threw cobblestones and bricks at the troop. When the harassed soldiers fired into the mob, those with weapons fired back and full scale pandemonium ensued. The Baltimore police arrived on the scene and tried to restore order, but before it ended four soldiers and twelve civilians were dead.

Charlie read the newspaper to the family over breakfast.

“Doesn’t Lincoln know that Maryland’s sympathy is with the Confederate States?” Jeremiah wondered. “If he didn’t before, I suppose he does now.”

“Since Virginia joined the Confederacy, Maryland’s all that’s standing in the way of the Rebels taking Washington. I don’t think Lincoln’s going to let us get away with breaking free,” Francis worried. “If Maryland wants to survive this war unscathed, she needs to avoid choosing sides. The tyrant’s boot will take a heavy toll.”