Thanksgiving passed quietly and the prayers continued that winter would come, making movement of the armies impossible. The first day of December saw ice covering the water pitcher in Elizabeth’s room, a bitter wind bearing testimony that hopes could be realized.
A few days later, news came that Fredericksburg was under fire and the night was once more warm. Fear became a daily companion. The Yankees had crossed the river. Rumors flew, battles were won and lost, and there was victory to cheer, defeat to moan.
Colter didn’t come again. But there were mornings when evidence of his stopping, or having sent someone, awaited her. A wooden top with string for Nicole, a leather-bound volume of Tennyson’s poems for Emily, whose reading of “Nothing Will Die” infused them all with hope.
Elizabeth cherished the memory of Rutha’s smile when she would find a packet of cinnamon bark or a length of soft calico. Another time there was real coffee to share, and even Josh was remembered with a finely made knife. For herself, there appeared one morning a brown velvet-and-satin hair bow and much needed gloves of black Marseilles kid, trimmed with an embroidered spray of yellow and brown silk flowers.
Yes, she cherished his thoughtfulness toward all of them, but she longed to see him, for the fear for his safety rose as the weather turned to a springlike warmth. On Monday morning at work, Elizabeth learned that the fighting had taken the lives of General Cobb and countless others. General Hood was severely wounded, but the Yankees had been repulsed.
As she worked, a litany played over and over in her mind. The waiting and waiting without news of Colter was going to drive her mad. She thought of visiting the secretary of war—after all, Colter had claimed friendship with the man—but if her suspicions about Colter were true, no one would tell her anything.
The wounded began to arrive and women were asked to volunteer their time at the hospitals. Elizabeth wanted to give her time, but Emily cautioned against it.
“What if you are recognized? Would you undo all we’ve taken pains to ensure?”
Conceding that she was right, Elizabeth made her excuses and was left with a vague feeling that she had lost the respect of her fellow workers.
News came from General Lee that Burnside had withdrawn to the hills beyond the Rappahannock. Winter brought them a time of peaceful security.
Elizabeth now waited with restless anticipation for Colter to return. Her feelings toward Jenna began to border on mistrust. Twice now, Hugh’s wife had revealed information that Elizabeth knew she could not have gathered from reading a newspaper or hearing talk from their own military. Yet some instinct cautioned her not to reveal what she believed.
Everyone talked about the congressional elections held in October and November, which had increased the Democratic delegation from forty-four to seventy-five, but the Republican majority was saved, to the surprise of many, by the New England and western Mississippi regions. A few days after the battle of Fredericksburg, Jenna mentioned that Senator Sumner, during a caucus of the Republican members of Congress, had appointed a committee of seven radicals to call on Lincoln to demand that Secretary of State William Seward, a close friend of McClellan’s, be removed.
By itself, Elizabeth was not alarmed that Jenna knew. It was that Jenna continued to discuss the jealousy between Seward and Salmon Chase, the Union secretary of the Treasury. To hear Jenna speak knowingly of Chase’s ambitions to run for president and have her add that Senator Browning, an intimate friend of President Lincoln, had offered a solution to his having a radical cabinet, Elizabeth could scarce hold her tongue.
“Is it through your family that you are well acquainted with these men, Jenna?” Elizabeth watched Jenna’s reaction closely. Her smile was cool, just as her gaze was.
“No, I merely repeat rumors.”
“The security of the Yankee government must be loose indeed to allow such gossip to flourish. I have always believed there must be a seed of truth in all rumors.”
Directing a wry look at Elizabeth, Jenna murmured, “Perhaps you are right.”
That was the first incident. The second was a blatant lie of a personal nature. Elizabeth knew of Lincoln’s using presidential authority to call for enlistments not yet sanctioned by Congress, in his declaring of the blockade, and the suspension of the writ of habeas corpus in Maryland. During a brief respite from work, Mrs. Galwey, as she often did, was reading aloud. She recounted an outrage that sprang from this suspension of rights. A judge who had charged a grand jury to inquire into illegal acts of government officials was set upon by soldiers while his court was in session. He had been beaten, dragged from his bench and imprisoned. This provoked an outcry from all who listened.
“God save us if the Yankees take Richmond,” one matron exclaimed.
“This power-hungry warmonger Lincoln will show us no mercy,” yet another declared.
“Fools,” Jenna whispered. “So he arrests and imprisons those with Southern sympathies.”
“Jenna! You can’t support his actions.” Elizabeth was furious.
“You misunderstand. This is war. Each side will do whatever must be done. It is foolish to decry what we cannot help.”
Elizabeth dropped her blotter just as Jenna bent to reach for her reticule. Their hands entangled and the contents of Jenna’s purse spilled. Before she could kneel to pick them up, Elizabeth saw the bold scrawl on a missive dated the previous Sunday. My darling Jenna, meet me…
So hungry for news of Colter, Elizabeth spoke without thinking. “You’ve had word from Hugh?”
“No,” Jenna snapped, shoving the paper into her bag. “Not for weeks.”
Frowning, Elizabeth gazed after Jenna’s retreating back. There was no doubt that the note was from a man. Elizabeth’s mind was dulled by lack of sleep, but she refused to doubt what she saw. What possible reason could Jenna have for lying? Were the other women right and Elizabeth’s own judgment at fault? Should Jenna’s loyalty be questioned? The thought made her uncomfortable. She did not want to accuse her falsely. Not out of a sense to protect Jenna, but to protect Colter, who used his influence to obtain this position for Jenna.
Living out of the city left her without means to watch Jenna and there was no one she could trust with her suspicions. Yet it troubled her to leave the matter unresolved.
Her mood remained pensive on the ride home. Josh mentioned that Nicole had been restless all day, comparing her to a pea jumping around in a hot skillet. Elizabeth blamed the unseasonable weather changes for Nicole’s recent slight cold, but now that her daughter was feeling better she knew that for everyone’s peace, she had to spend some time out of doors with her.
As had become the custom, Dobie helped Josh take the mules from their traces when they arrived home. Elizabeth’s greeting elicited a curt nod from Dobie before he went into the barn and climbed the loft where she knew he would sleep until supper. He had refused all her overtures to draw him out, but she couldn’t help wondering about a man who slept during the day and kept guard all night.
“Don’t be frettin’ over him, Miz Elizabeth,” Josh advised, seeing that she still gazed at the shadowed barn opening where Dobie had disappeared.
“I can’t help it, Mister Josh, I’m curious about him. I wonder where the colonel found him.”
“He ain’t sayin’ an’ I ain’t askin’.”
“I am sure that is the wisest course.”
“Prove to the colonel you ain’t like them mules.”
“That’s where you are wrong, Josh. I am just as stubborn.” But she was laughing as she walked toward the house.
Nicole pounced on her the moment she walked inside. “Mama! Mama, can we play?”
“Chil’,” Rutha scolded, “let your mama catch her breath. Ants has got you fidgetin’ an’ frettin’ all day.”
“Has not! Has not,” Nicole repeatedly denied.
Elizabeth let her imagination fill in what had gone on all day. Rutha appeared on the verge of losing her patience.
“Nicole, let me change and we’ll go outside.”
“I don’t wanna wait.”
She glared at her daughter. Nicole’s mouth was a sullen pout, her eyes almost defiant. Elizabeth drew on her own store of patience and guilt that she wasn’t able to be home with Nicole, making her temper her response.
“I’ll hurry, precious, and we’ll have almost two hours before dark. We can stay out the whole time.”
“Oh, Mama, you’re the bestest.”
Elizabeth braced herself as Nicole came flying at her, hugging her tight. For a moment she met Rutha’s gaze, letting her eyes blaze with the fury she felt, and found that Rutha felt the same. Alma’s threat was denying Nicole other children to play with, forcing her to remain hidden away from any diversion.
Releasing her daughter before Nicole could sense her tension, Elizabeth hurried to change.
For a little while they played tag in the yard, Josh teasing them as he split wood. The day was still warm and Emily joined them outside, seated in a chair near the kitchen door. Rutha was humming and Elizabeth felt her mood lift with each new burst of laughter from Nicole.
When she pleaded for a walk in the woods, Elizabeth hesitated, although she was unsure why. Glancing back to see Josh close by, drawing water from the well, Elizabeth dismissed her unease as foolish. She called out to him that they were going for a short walk.
Holding hands with Nicole, Elizabeth raced down the knoll that took them out of sight of the house. She smiled to see her daughter’s bright eyes, flushed cheeks and sturdy little body twirling around and around.
“Catch me, Mama. Catch me,” Nicole teased as soon as her mother released her hand.
“Oh, love, give Mama a moment to catch her breath and then I’ll chase you around and around.” Elizabeth sat hugging her knees, unaware of the growing twilight. Nicole was suddenly still, looking up at the sky, and Elizabeth followed her gaze.
Two pure white birds with large wingspans were overhead. Elizabeth repeated her daughter’s murmur that they were beautiful, for the birds seemed to be putting on an exhibition that showed off their grace in flight. A soft whistling noise came from them. Elizabeth was unsure if it was caused by the movement of their wings or was a sound swans usually made.
“Oh, no, Mama,” Nicole cried, already running to keep the birds in sight.
“Wait, Nicole!” Elizabeth scrambled to stand, her heel caught in her skirt hem. With a feeling of annoyance she ripped it free and turned to see Nicole disappearing into the woods. She called her daughter back, for the tall pines would make it impossible for the child to see any more of the graceful swans.
Walking steadily toward the forest, Elizabeth caught the aromatic scent of the waxy bayberry fruit and made herself a promise to pick some for their candle making.
“Nicole,” she called, glancing about. Low-spread oaks mingled with the pines, and some had vines twisted in their branches. The floor was covered with russet brown pine needles, carpeting each step that Elizabeth took. She was suddenly aware of how quiet it was.
“Precious, answer Mama. This isn’t a game anymore.” Elizabeth stopped where she stood, hoping to catch sight of Nicole’s pale blue frock or hear her giggle, a sign that she had hidden and was ready to be found.
The forest was silent. Fear pervaded every bone in her body.
“Nicole,” she called again, loudly this time, demand clear in her tone. She strained again to listen and, when the silence remained unbroken, took a few steps forward. She staggered, her legs trembling and a fear unlike any she had experienced taking hold. “Nicole,” she screamed over and over, tearing aside low-growing bushes in her rush.
“She’s fallen and can’t answer me,” Elizabeth said to herself as panic shivered through her body. Her heart seemed to stop whenever she did, and then beat out a frantic rhythm. Her breathing became erratic.
“Baby, baby, where are you? It’s all right. Come out now, Mama won’t be angry. Just answer me. Tell me where you are. Tell me,” she wailed in terror.
Up at the house, Josh was poised with the ax raised above his shoulder. He frowned and listened, hearing Elizabeth’s voice. About to finish the downward swing, he realized that she was screaming. His arms trembled for a moment before he flung down the ax and yelled for Dobie.
Musket in one hand, pistol in the other, Dobie charged out of the barn. His doze had been light, yet he shook his head as if to clear the sleep from his mind. Bits of straw clung to his shirt and the thick waves of his blond hair. His narrowed eyes targeted Josh’s.
“Where?”
“Forest over the knoll,” Josh answered, bending to pick up his ax. He followed the ground-eating lope of the bigger man. It didn’t surprise him that Dobie asked no more questions. He knew that Josh wouldn’t have called him unless something was wrong. Guilt grayed Josh’s skin. He shouldn’t have let them go off by themselves.
From below, they both could hear the terrified wails that Elizabeth made. Dobie gestured for Josh to hold up at the forest edge. He scanned the already darkening sky, heard again the feminine screams that the forest seemed to gather and then fling out in all directions. A less experienced man would not have been able to pinpoint its source.
Elizabeth felt her knees buckle and grabbed hold of a sapling for support. She dragged air into her lungs. Tears blinded her. She wiped them with her torn sleeve. Her throat was raw, and there was no moisture left to soothe it so she could scream again.
Pushing away from the support, she realized the twisting and turning path she followed had left her without sense of direction. The night hovered as if it were a huge quilt waiting to smother her.
“Nicole,” she called weakly, sweeping her gaze over the dark shifting shadows that held an unseen menace.
Time and again, her steps faltered, but she wrenched strength from an inner core, knowing only that her child needed her. In a small clearing, Elizabeth stopped and stood with head bowed, praying.
A tiny sound made her spin wildly. Was it a muffled cry she heard? She didn’t know, couldn’t tell. Tears poured down her face. Where was her baby? The nightmares of the past came alive again. She could feel the ache of empty arms, the physical pain that rendered her helpless and the emotional desolation.
“No! No, it can’t happen again,” she cried out. A surge of rage filled her, imbuing her with a furious determination not to be a victim. Nicole was never going to be lost to her again.
For she knew with a clarity that cut through the panic and madness of her plight that Alma had found them. Alma, whose own madness had nearly driven Elizabeth insane.
Twigs snapped behind her, but Elizabeth was running forward where she was sure she had heard a muffled cry.
Roots tripped her and she fell in a jarring sprawl. Don’t let her defeat you, she whispered to herself, ignoring the sting of scrapes and her belabored breath to stand.
And there, through a grove of trees, she caught a glimpse of light cloth in the purpling shadows of twilight.
She had no weapon but herself. It would have to serve. Elizabeth hurled herself after the barely discernible shape of a man carrying Nicole, her only thought to free her child.
The force of a man’s arm clamping around her waist, sweeping her off her feet, stunned her. A cry ripped its way up from deep inside her, only to be choked off.