Chapter Seven
Stephen made an appearance a few days later, attired in his officer’s uniform, but Anna chased him away without much trouble. He persisted by returning two days after that and followed her around like a puppy. David avoided him as much as possible, but overheard them trade inside jokes and laugh about occasions they had shared with each other, which revolted him. He didn’t understand why Anna was being so cordial to the Yankee and could only shake his head in disgust while he walked away.
On the following day, New Year’s Eve, Stephen showed up once more. He made a point of searching out David, who was in the barn.
“Is this your animal?” he inquired upon entering.
David’s heart leaped at the unexpected boom of Stephen’s voice. He nearly jumped out of his new boots. “Mr. Montgomery! Uh, why, yes. Yes, he is.”
Stephen came closer, holding his hand out to Renegade’s muzzle, but the colt snorted and shied away. “He’s a fine looking beast,” he remarked. “Have you considered offering him to the army?”
David glared at him. The thought of Renegade’s going off to serve the Yankees was as repulsive as fighting for them himself. “He’s recovering from an injury,” David explained, speaking slowly, and intentionally enunciating the “G.”
“What would be the nature of his impediment?” Stephen asked complacently. “He appears sound to me.”
“Well, he has a cracked hoof. It ain’t quite healed,” he replied.
“How was he injured?”
David shrugged. “Too much fun and frolic I reckon—er, I suppose,” he stumbled over his words.
Stephen turned to face him. “Since you and I will be neighbors from here on out, why don’t we refer to each other by our given names?”
“All right,” he agreed.
“Tell me, David, are you a Freemason?”
“No, sir. Are you?”
“Yes, and so is my father. It was his idea to make this suggestion. If you’re interested, you’re invited to join our fraternal order.” He paused, his countenance indicating David should be honored by the privilege.
Appalled by Stephen’s demeanor, David wondered if the offer was made to appease Anna, or worse yet, to expose him. Joining a brotherhood with this Yankee was beyond his comprehension. Almost certainly, Stephen would discover his true identity then.
Raising an eyebrow at him, David said, “I dunno,” with a shrug.
Stephen frowned. “Well, think on it.” He pulled a small box from his greatcoat pocket, and withdrew it from under his elbow-length cape so David would see. “I must find Anna now. I have something to give her.” He turned and walked across the barnyard.
David watched him depart. He didn’t know if he should intrude, but he didn’t want Stephen to have the opportunity to be alone with Anna. He decided to follow. Bolting across the yard, he ran into the kitchen, panting. Anna and Stephen gawked at him from the table.
“David,” she said, standing. “Come join us.” She walked over, took him by the arm, and nudged him toward the table.
“Anna, dear, I meant for this to be a private occasion between the two of us,” Stephen remarked, a pasted smile on his face.
“My cousin can hear whatever it is you have to say,” she stated, returning to her seat.
David reluctantly sank down in the chair across from her.
Giving out a slight groan, Stephen relented. “Well, all right.” He handed her the tiny box.
Anna’s eyes grew large. She threw a fleeting glance at David, slowly opened it, and gasped. “Oh, Stephen,” she reacted.
David felt his heart sink.
“It’s a sapphire, and it’s absolutely stunning,” she said in awe.
“Not nearly as stunning as you are, my dear,” Stephen said with a wide smile. “It’s to go with the necklace I gave you. I thought of saving it, but I decided you should have it now.” He stood. “I’m leaving in the morning for Washington, and I plan to return sometime this spring. Come, darling, escort me out.” He held out his hand.
She took it, arose, and walked down the hallway with him.
Making their way to the front door, he asked, “Is something wrong with your cousin? He speaks so slowly. Was he kicked in the head by a mule?”
They went outside. David scowled, fully aware Stephen intentionally wanted him to overhear his spiteful remark. Quickly walking the length of the house, he pulled back a lace curtain in the parlor and peered out. He saw them facing each other, holding hands. Stephen bent down to kiss her cheek.
David considered intruding again to prevent it from happening. The thought alarmed him. He wasn’t sure what to do. The situation was much too difficult for him to deal with. It made him crazy with envy, so he looked away. Turning from the window, he saw Sarah standing in the doorway, observing him.
“Miss Sarah,” he said, surprised by her sudden appearance.
She raised her eyebrows, walked past him, pulled back the curtain, and gazed out. Reeling back to face him with an austere expression, she stated bluntly, “David, have a seat.”
He did as he was told.
She sat beside him on the sofa. “My dear, I can see what’s been happening over the past few months, and it troubles me.”
“What does?” he asked.
“You have developed an interest in Anna, haven’t you?”
He gawked at her, awestruck, and looked away, ashamed his feelings were so transparent. “What?” he asked, embarrassed by her comprehension.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m referring to, David. Look at me,” she insisted in a motherly fashion.
He let out a small sigh and did as she instructed.
“You must stop your infatuation with my niece this instant,” she told him insistently. “It will only cause problems for all of us, and I’m sure you are quite aware the consequences could be catastrophic.”
David slowly nodded. “Yes’m,” he softly responded.
Sarah rose and abruptly left the room.
His heart ached inexplicably. He stood and gazed out the window. To his relief, he saw Stephen ride off down the lane. Anna stood on the porch, watching him leave. David made a hasty retreat into the kitchen before she returned inside.
That evening, the family and their friends gathered in the parlor for a New Year’s Eve celebration, but David kept to a corner, avoiding the others. Anna had given him some wine, so he sat alone, contentedly sipping, and gazed at the two Currier and Ives paintings. Claudia and Abigail amused themselves with their stereographs and the carousels he had made for them. Anna and Maggie talked happily while Sarah and Grace conversed in the opposite corner. At midnight, they all gathered in the center of the room. Anna stood close to him as the mantle clock chimed twelve times.
“Happy New Year!” the ladies exclaimed, raising their glasses.
They clanked their crystals together, and everyone took a sip of wine. David glanced over at the doorway where a strand of mistletoe had been hung. He wished he was standing beneath it with Anna, so he would have an excuse to kiss her. Claudia and Abigail went around the room hugging everyone before they went up to bed. Once David had finished his glass, he excused himself and retired to his room.
He lit the fire, undressed, heated a bed warmer in the embers of the fireplace, and set it on the bed. While he waited for it to warm the flannel sheets, he checked on his Colt .44 and saw that it was just as he’d left it. Returning the warmer to its place near the hearth, he climbed into bed and shivered slightly, his breath barely visible in the firelight.
Closing his eyes, he thought of everything that had taken place the previous year: how he had traveled to Virginia and fought with so many fearless commanders and comrades, and how he had lost Jake and had ended up at the Brady farm. His mind wandered to home. He wondered how his mother and sisters were getting along and whether the Yankees had taken over their land. He hoped 1864 would see an end to the terrible war, but he also wished the South would be triumphant somehow. He thought of his hospitable hostesses and how they had saved him: Miss Maggie, who obviously loathed him; Miss Sarah, who tolerated him; and Anna, lovely Anna. If the war ended, she might be interested in him for some other reason than to provide her with an alibi. It seemed the only people who really liked him for who he was were the two little girls.
Thank God for their innocence, he thought.
His mind drifted back to Anna and her amazing smile. What this year held in store for them, he hadn’t a clue. Perhaps he would be able to return to Alabama soon, after all. It would be a welcome escape from the predicament he now found himself in. Anna was too close, too personal. He knew he was falling further with each passing day. His portentous, precarious situation reminded him of soldiers he’d seen walking enemy lines. He knew sparks could never fly between the two of them. It was the worst forbidden, foreboding situation he could have ever imagined. His affections toward her might potentially place Anna in horrific danger. The Yankees could blame her for treason. She would stand to lose her farm, or even worse, her life. Where would that leave her younger sisters? Guilt washed over him. He couldn’t restrain his feelings, yet he knew he had to. His only choice was to submit to his present condition: the most challenging, heart-wrenching situation he had yet to endure. He knew his family missed him and Callie needed him, but in his heart he wasn’t ready to go home.
New Year’s Day presented itself in the form of a dreary day, followed by another dreary day. David arose early and tended to the livestock. Upon completing his task, he sauntered toward the house. He saw Anna, Maggie, and Sarah drive away in the sleigh and remembered Anna had asked him the previous evening to watch the little ones while the ladies rode to Kralltown. As he walked through the house, he heard a sound in the parlor. He went to investigate and saw Claudia and Abigail sitting on the floor, teasing Tabby with a string.
“Here y’all are,” he said and picked up the latest issue of The York Daily Record that had carelessly been tossed on the parlor table.
He sat down in one of the velvet chairs and pulled the pages open. The girls giggled, taunting Tabby, who sprang at the string. David glanced at them from over the top of the pages, amused as well.
“David?” Abigail asked. “When’s your birthday?”
“April second, Miss Abigail. Why do you ask?”
“I was just wondering.” She jumped up and ran upstairs.
David kept reading, looking for any news about the Confederacy or his beloved Alabama. Something thumped on the floor in front of him. Assuming it was Claudia playing with the cat, he didn’t bother to look. The thumping persisted until he was finally drawn to the sound. He glanced up to see Claudia flailing about on the rug.
“Miss Claudia!” He sprang to his feet. “Oh! For God Almighty’s sake. Claudia!”
The little girl continued to spasm uncontrollably. He dropped the paper and stared at her in disbelief. Coming to his senses, he tried to hold her, but her convulsions were so intense he finally decided the best thing to do was to move the furniture as far away from her as possible. At last, she stopped. She looked around and began to cry.
“Oh, li’l darlin’, it’s all right,” he comforted. He took her little hand in his. Retrieving his handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped her tears. “Can you stand up?”
She nodded. Slowly, she rose to her feet. He helped her into the kitchen.
Abigail came bounding down the steps. “What’s wrong?” she asked, noticing their shocked expressions.
David filled a cup with tea. “Miss Claudia,” he said, handing her the cup. “She was floppin’ around like a fish out of water.”
Claudia took a sip. Her little hand trembled slightly.
“Oh,” said Abigail. “You mean she was jerking her arms?”
He shook his head. “No. She was jerkin’ all over.” Sinking down onto a kitchen chair, he ran his hand over his face. The alarming event left him shaken. “When’s everyone due back?” he asked.
Abigail shrugged.
Claudia set the cup down on the table and let out a big sigh.
“Let’s go upstairs and play with dollies,” Abigail exclaimed.
Claudia agreed and groggily followed her. The two girls clambered upstairs, leaving David sitting there too stunned to move. He hoped Claudia’s episode wouldn’t reoccur, especially not on his watch.
When the ladies returned, he informed them of what had happened. They immediately went to check on Claudia. Finding nothing wrong, they returned to question him further. Still reeling from what had happened, he felt relieved to learn the little girl hadn’t received any scrapes or bruises. Amazingly, Claudia didn’t remember the incident at all. He even started to wonder himself if it had actually taken place. A few days later, the Burrows departed for home, and the Brady’s settled into their winter routine.
Late one afternoon, just before twilight, David noticed how dozens of little winged creatures appeared from out of the hay bales and the woodpile. At first, he thought they were bats; but upon closer inspection, he discovered they were actually tiny short-eared owls. They were gone within a few days, and the quiet, snow-covered stillness of the countryside resumed.
While he sat enjoying his morning coffee a week later, he told Sarah of Stephen’s invitation to join the Freemasons.
“Well, isn’t that interesting,” she said. “Many of our forefathers were Freemasons. Were you aware of that?”
“Yes’m, reckon I heard that somewhere before.”
“However, I wouldn’t recommend taking him up on his offer if I were you,” she suggested.
“No, Miss Sarah, I wasn’t fixin’ to.”
She stared out the window for a moment. “While Grace and I were in Gettysburg, I remember hearing of how the Freemasons stopped the battle in order to collect other members from the field. And it didn’t matter which side they were fighting on.” She shook her head. “Strange,” she added, taking a sip from her cup.
David thought it more than unusual. Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to join after all, but that wouldn’t be until the war was over. He certainly didn’t anticipate engaging in any more battles, and he had no intention of joining a fraternity that involved Stephen, either.
As the dreary days of January dragged by, he contented himself by occasionally playing a game of checkers with Abigail and reading American Agriculture magazine, the Grange Review, and the Farmer’s Almanac. He also developed an interest in astrology he hadn’t possessed before. Remembering how Jake had been superstitious, he decided he might give the predictions a try. After fighting in numerous battles, he had witnessed oddities and omens that had opened his mind to the unexplained.
One afternoon in late January, snow began falling, and it didn’t let up. Looking out through the parlor window, David could see nothing but white outside. He walked into the kitchen.
“Bundle up,” Sarah said. “We’re having a terrible blizzard.” She stepped onto the back porch and pointed out a rope that had been tied from the house to the barn. “Hang onto this until you reach the barn and don’t let go or you might end up getting lost out there.” She smiled and returned to the kitchen.
David shuddered. He felt obligated to assist in any way he could, but the last thing he wanted was to venture out into the snowstorm. After buttoning up the heavy coat that had once belonged to Anna’s father, he wrapped a scarf over his head and pulled on his gloves. Cautiously, he made his way across the yard while the cold wind blew icy snow into his face. The weight of the heavy snow dragged him down, slowing his progress. Barely able to see the barn, he managed to make his way over to it. Once inside, he pushed the door shut and shook the snow off.
“I hate this,” he said aloud to himself. Turning to his horse, he said, “Renie, first chance we git, we’re goin’ back down South where it’s warmer. I can’t stand this here snow and cold.”
The stallion blew in response.
In the morning, David awoke to find several feet of snow on the ground. He went downstairs and planted himself at the kitchen table, putting off his chores for as long as possible. Noticing a copy of The New York Herald, he picked it up and saw a drawing of ice skaters in Central Park.
“Good morning,” Abigail greeted him cheerily. “Whatcha lookin’ at?” She looked over his shoulder. “Ooh! I love ice skating.”
“So you’ve done it before, Miss Abigail?”
“Yes. Haven’t you?”
“Naw. It don’t git cold enough down South for the ponds to freeze.”
Abigail walked over to the counter and made breakfast for herself while David looked through the display ads offering an assortment of goods for sale to Yankee volunteers. The items ranged from pistols to clothing to artificial limbs, with remedies for bad breath and other ailments thrown in for good measure. He folded the paper, picked up a recent copy of Harper’s Weekly, and noticed a picture of black Yankee soldiers setting slaves free. He pondered on how the North had resorted to miscegenation, or the blending of blacks and whites, and assumed most of the black soldiers now in the Union army were contraband, or escaped slaves.
“Did you know Stephen Foster died?” Abigail asked, seating herself at the table beside him with a bowl of steaming oatmeal.
“Your aunt told me,” he said. Verses of “Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair,” “Oh! Susanna,” and “Beautiful Dreamer” quickly ran through his head. He stood and poured himself a cup of coffee.
Abigail finished her breakfast. “Let’s go outside,” she said.
He sighed. “Reckon it is time I git on with my chores.”
“I’ll help.”
She flung on her thick woolen coat and pulled a stocking cap over her head as David dressed himself in outerwear. Opening the back door, Abigail ran ahead of him and bounded outside. David squinted at the bright morning light reflected off the white, new fallen snow. They made their way to the barn, this time without assistance from the rope. The footsteps he had left the evening before were gone.
Once they completed tending to the livestock, they went back out into the yard. Abigail scooped up a mitten full of snow and licked it, reminding him of how Josie had tasted the snowflakes that had fallen on her tongue when she and David had hunted for an appropriate Christmas tree. That was one long year ago. He stared out at the snow-covered landscape, awestruck by the beauty of the white, glistening hills, and longed for his family.
From out of nowhere, a snowball struck him on the cheek, jarring him back into reality. He turned to see Abigail grinning at him.
“I got you,” she said, giggling.
He threw one back at her, making sure not to hit her. She threw another and another, pelting him until he finally grew annoyed and asked her to stop. He recalled how his father’s best friend, Bud Samuels, had told him about a mighty snowball fight that took place within their regiment prior to the Battle of Fredericksburg. According to Bud, the fight became so vicious that some men were killed.
Abigail requested they build a snowman, so David agreed. They rolled three large snowballs. Sarah provided them with two pieces of charred wood from the fireplace for eyes and a carrot for its nose. After a while, Abigail grew cold, so she retreated inside and left David with the task of shoveling out. After an hour of heavy shoveling, he had chiseled a path from the house to the barn. He disliked snow immensely. Chilled to the bone, he returned inside. Frost from his breath hung in frozen clumps from his brows and eyelashes.
“It’s so c–c–cold,” he said through chattering teeth. He stiffly shook off his overcoat and pulled off his boots.
Anna chuckled at the sight of him. Taking his icy hand, she led him to the fireplace in the parlor. “It isn’t that cold out, is it?” she teased.
He glared at her, shivered, and wrapped his arms around himself.
“Oh, you’re not used to the snow and cold, are you?”
He shook his head, trying to control his shivering.
She smiled at him. “Welcome to Pennsylvania in the wintertime.” She went to the kitchen and abandoned him to thaw.
February felt just as frigid to him. By the time Valentine’s Day arrived, David wholly wished for warmer weather and decided he never wanted to experience another cold, damp, dreary Northeastern winter again. The colder it got, the more he longed for home. Even rides in the sleigh and sledding down the hill behind the barn with Abigail had lost their appeal.
He turned his thoughts toward the holiday. Although he wanted to make a Valentine’s card for Anna, Sarah’s warning loomed over him. He made her a small heart-shaped token anyway. It simply stated, “Happy Valentine’s Day from David.” Handing it to Anna from across the kitchen table, he glanced at Sarah, who scowled. He quickly threw a shy smile at Anna before slinking off into the parlor. More than anything, he wished to express his attraction to her, but he was afraid to show it. The repercussions could be too great, so he reluctantly repressed his feelings.
Winter relentlessly persisted. It seemed like it would never end. It was even longer due to the extra day of leap year. March finally arrived, and with it came more snow. The weather slightly warmed; and the ground slowly softened; but the fields held nothing but frozen mud.
David read that, on February 9, Ulysses S. Grant had been promoted to Lieutenant General, thus giving him command of all the Union armies. He hoped “Unconditional Surrender” Grant would blunder as much as his Yankee predecessors had.
A few weeks later, he read about General Robert E. Lee’s son, “Rooney” Lee, who had been held prisoner in New York State since his capture shortly after the battle at Brandy Station, and had recently been exchanged. David recalled the great cavalry battle and how he’d learned the following day of Rooney Lee’s capture. The news elated him, but to his dismay, he read about how Judson “Kill-Cavalry” Kilpatrick, the heartless Yankee who didn’t respect anyone, not even his own men, had attempted to take the Confederate capitol, Richmond. Kilpatrick intended to free Yankee officers from Libby Prison and kill President Davis. Fortunately, for the people of the South and to David’s relief, the raid failed.
Sarah and Maggie had gone to church every Sunday since the first of the year. They reported back that the locals were asking about their relative from New York. David declined to attend, but he knew sooner or later he would be expected to go. Finally, on March 13, he agreed to accompany them since it was the anniversary of Anna’s father’s death, and he wanted to be there to comfort her.
Rehearsing his Northern accent on the way, he drove them to the tiny church two miles from the Brady farmstead. The whitewashed chapel was a one-room clapboard. David took a seat between Anna and Abigail, with Sarah and Maggie seated on either end. Glancing around, he noticed the congregation was small. To his relief, no one in attendance seemed to recognize him for who he truly was. He leaned in to whisper in Anna’s ear, but noticed Maggie glaring at him, so he refrained.
After a pianist plunked out a hymn, the preacher, Pastor Tully, took the pulpit. His soothing voice droned on, and David soon felt himself nodding off. Anna nudged him; he jerked awake. Abigail softly giggled at him.
Once the service concluded, only a few people approached to cordially greet the Brady’s and ask about their new addition. David followed the family outside to the little cemetery surrounded by a wrought-iron fence. A chilly breeze softly whispered. He noticed threatening dark clouds overhead. The ladies, adorned in black crinoline and cloaks, made their way over to two specific headstones. They stood quietly sobbing for several minutes. David solemnly waited outside the gate. He heard a mourning dove cry off in the distance. It reminded him of the mourning dove he’d heard not long after Jake had died. The thought made his heart ache. Cupping his hands, the way his father had shown him, he gave a melancholy reply. The dove answered back, and the exchange went on for several minutes.
Abigail drifted away from her sisters toward him. “What are you doing?” she quietly asked.
“Hootin’ at a dove,” he replied, flashing a somber smile.
She mimicked him by lacing her fingers, cupping her hands, putting her thumbs together, and blowing between them. It created a woeful whistle for David, but she was unable to duplicate the sound. She quickly gave up.
When Sarah, Anna, and Maggie finished paying their respects, they walked past David and Abigail to the landau. He drove them home, wishing he had avoided the occasion after all. At least their mourning period was over, but it saddened him since he was forced to dwell on the loss of his own loved ones.
Patrick appeared on a weekly basis, March 17 being no exception. He happily informed them it was St. Patrick’s Day, the saint he was supposedly named after. He’d brought enough whiskey to liquor up the entire Pennsylvania militia. The two young men amused themselves by playing poker at the dining room table while betting on imaginary objects, such as Patrick’s new farm and David’s sixty head of cattle. The subject of betting Renegade came up once when Patrick caught a straight, but David stared him down so hard the Irishman burst out laughing.
“Never ye mind,” he said and didn’t mention it again.
As the evening progressed, the ladies brought in corned beef and cabbage, boiled carrots, and Irish potatoes. They even made a loaf of Irish brown bread, which David had never tasted before.
“How did ye know to prepare all this for me, lasses?” Patrick exclaimed with a wide grin while the food was being placed on the table before him.
“Why, dear Patrick, we’re Irish too. Or did ye forget?” Anna asked in an exaggerated brogue.
He chuckled. “No, I could ne’er forget such a thing of great importance! ‘Twas your grand pappy who came across, aye?”
Anna, Maggie, and Abigail all nodded in unison.
“Say, where abouts is that family crest ye had hangin’ in the hallway a wee time ago?” Patrick asked.
“It’s in the storage room,” Anna replied. She glanced at David, who gave her a questioning look. “I’ll show you after supper,” she told him.
When they had finished eating, she took him upstairs, lit a candlestick that stood in its holder on top of a small table in the corner, and rummaged around until she found what she was looking for. She licked her fingers and pinched the wick before leading him back downstairs.
“Here it is!” She announced, entering the dining room.
She held the small framed piece of embroidery up to the light. The coat of arms consisted of a black shield with a flaming sun and a large white hand reaching up to it.
David contemplated its meaning. “That’s your coat of arms?” he asked.
She smiled at him. “Do you know what your family crest looks like?”
He shook his head.
“Well, perhaps someday we’ll find out.”
She walked into the parlor. David stared after her, curious as to what she meant by the remark, or why she would even care.
Hours went by, and the young men became more inebriated. Patrick burst into song, singing every Irish melody he could recollect from the old country. He told stories of his family and friends. Whether real or imaginary, no one could tell. Finally, he bid them adieu and rode off into the night.
David finished the opened bottle before staggering up the steps. Relieved everyone else had gone to bed, he hoped he wouldn’t disturb them. He pictured Patrick repeatedly sliding off his mare on his way home. Snickering softly to himself, he fell onto the bed. Forgetting to light the fire, he immediately dozed off.
Morning came too soon. The rooster’s crow startled him awake. His head ached. He could see his breath, and his hands were icily numb. Managing to pull himself up after considerable effort, he went downstairs with his head throbbing. The ringing in his left ear was so profound he could barely make out what was said to him. After compelling himself through his chores and the rest of the day, he dragged his weary body back to bed. He swore he would never touch another drop of whiskey. All the while, he blamed Patrick for being so generous.
Easter Sunday fell on March 27. It was celebrated by a church outing, a large dinner, and a small list of chores. David recalled how he had spent Easter a year ago with Jake in Knoxville. They were on their way to Richmond to enlist with the Confederate cavalry. His heart hurt at the thought of it. Once again, he longed for home.
Two days later, Patrick, Anna, and Sarah left for Davidsburg. They returned later that evening with a new Hoffhein’s reaper for the Brady farm. David learned it was on loan until it could be paid off the following fall by selling the crops it produced; crops, no doubt, to be sold to the Union army. He shook his head in disgust after hearing the news. He knew it was benefiting the girls while providing food for his own stomach, but the hypocritical situation gnawed at him. It was only one of many in this war, and his living in the North made it all the more blatant.
He also had a difficult time digesting all the contradictory information he was presented with in the papers. Yankees were obtaining vast fortunes due to stock investments, oil wells, and other questionable dealings while the South progressively grew poorer. These “new rich,” in large cities like New York City, Baltimore, and Pittsburg, didn’t seem ashamed to flaunt their wealth by holding extravagant parties or avoiding the draft by paying computations. Still others in the North, women and children especially, were exploited into working long hours for very little pay. None of it seemed justified. It was all very un-Christian-like to him.
April brought rain, icy rain, and more rain. On April 2, he spent the morning mucking stalls and the afternoon reading in his room. A knock came at the bedroom door. He walked across the room to answer it. Anna and Abigail stood in the hallway with wide grins on their faces.
He raised his eyebrows at them. “Ladies?” he questioned.
“My dear Mr. Summers,” Anna said. “It has come to my attention today is your birthday. Your nineteenth one, to be exact.” She pulled a scroll from behind her back and handed it to him. “You are cordially invited to your very own special birthday dinner tonight at six o’clock sharp. Formal dress is optional.”
The girls snickered at each other and went downstairs.
He unrolled the scroll, smiling as he read the intended menu.
Several hours later, he walked out to the barn to complete his evening chores. Shaking the cold rain from his hat, he went about his duties.
“Would you like some help?”
He turned to see Anna in the doorway.
“That’s all right, Miss Anna,” he said with a smile. “But I appreciate the offer.”
“Don’t be silly. I’d love to help.”
She approached and took the empty bucket from him, softly touching his hand as she did so. His heart fluttered at the touch of her hand. Anna fed some fodder to the family’s two cows. Turning back around, her eyes caught his. They smiled at each other.
“I do wish it would stop raining. It makes the day seem so dreary, don’t you agree?”
He nodded, unsure of how to respond.
“You’re awfully quiet, Mr. Summers,” she said. “Cat got your tongue?”
He didn’t know what to say, so he simply shook his head.
She chuckled. “It is a bit chilly in here.” She rubbed her forearms and sat down on a straw bale.
Removing his coat, he wrapped it around her shoulders. “You don’t have to stay out here,” he said. “I can finish up.”
“No, I want to stay.”
He awkwardly looked down at her. Deciding he should attempt to sit beside her, he took the initiative. Still, he couldn’t think of anything to say.
“David, I have something very personal to ask you.”
He glared at her. His heart thumped as he waited for her to continue.
“Besides the obvious injuries you sustained in the Gettysburg battle, was there something else?”
He frowned, not sure what she was referring to.
“I mean, it seems you have difficulty hearing out of your left ear.”
“Oh.” He nodded. “My left ear’s been ringin’ ever since Gettysburg,” he said. “Reckon I got too close to a shell.” He smiled at her, but she only scowled.
“Perhaps we should have a doctor look at it.”
He shook his head. “There ain’t nothin’ he could do.”
She gave him a sympathetic smile. “Does it hurt?”
“Naw. It jist rings so loud I can’t hear nothin’ else.”
“I’m sorry.” She gently touched his forearm.
His heart fluttered again. “I’m fine, Miss Anna. And I’m lookin’ forward to dinner later on.”
“Oh, my heavens!” She jumped to her feet. “I’d better get back inside and help Aunt Sarah.” She started toward the door, but abruptly turned. “Here’s your coat, David. I’ll see you in a while.”
She was gone as quickly as she had appeared. In a daze, he stood spellbound for a moment. His heart raced. He didn’t feel the chill at all.
Once his chores were completed, he returned to the house. The cold dampness caught up to him. Drenched and chilled to the bone, he went upstairs to his room to change into dry clothing. Returning downstairs, he entered the dining room to see an astounding sight. The sisters were seated and awaiting his arrival. They smiled at him. Candles glittered on the table. The fireplace emitted a warm, inviting, flickering glow.
“David, as your birthday gift, we are treating you to a special feast,” Sarah said.
He smiled and took his place at the table. When she finished serving everyone, he assisted her into her seat before returning to his.
“M’ladies.” He nearly choked on his words, sincerely touched by the gesture. “I’m deeply honored y’all would go to so much trouble for me.”
He glanced at Maggie, who wrinkled her nose at him.
“I didn’t go to any—” she began.
Before she could finish, Anna jabbed her with her elbow.
“We want you to know how much we appreciate your being here and all of the hard work you’ve done,” said Anna. “It has been difficult for us to carry on without Father, and you’ve been like a Godsend to us. We all know how Patrick appreciates your being here too.”
The females chuckled.
“He was a lonely soul before you arrived,” Sarah added.
David smiled. He looked down at his plate of roasted tenderloin, canned sweet corn from last year’s harvest, glazed carrots, and boiled red potatoes slathered in herbed butter. For dessert, he was presented with an apple tart. As he relished the sweet treat, he realized how he had been blessed by being spared, and his heart swelled with gladness. He hadn’t died on the Gettysburg battlefield after all. Now he couldn’t comprehend how he had wished for that to happen. A year ago, he was eager to enlist and traipse off to war with his best friend. But now, he was merely thankful to be fed, clothed, and able to sleep in a warm bed at night.
As winter reluctantly gave way to spring, portions of the fields dried out enough to plant, so the men set to work rotating crops. By late April, they finished planting nearly a third of their fields. Mr. Meyers amused himself by speaking German intentionally since Mrs. Meyers wouldn’t allow it inside their house. This, she reasoned, was out of respect for the great nation that had taken them in when they had first arrived, some twenty years ago.
On rainy days, Abigail taught David how to play the piano. By the start of May, he had learned several simple songs. He even mastered reading sheet music to a certain extent and assured her he would practice religiously once he had more time.
Patrick and David constructed a shed for the new reaper. They also built on a back porch, something Anna’s father had intended to do before he fell ill. Renegade was fully recovered, and he pulled the plow on occasion, although he protested so willfully David finally relinquished by turning him out to graze. He rode his horse as much as possible, happy to finally have the opportunity to feel the stallion’s smooth gait once again. May 3 brought Abigail’s ninth birthday, along with a chocolate cake in celebration. One afternoon three days later, David came into the kitchen for a cup of coffee.
“I jist jumped Renie over a fence,” he announced to Anna.
“Oh? And how did he do?”
“Passed with flyin’ colors.”
She smiled. “That’s splendid.”
He took a seat at the table and picked up a newspaper. “It says the U.S. Senate passed the 13th Amendment to the Constitution, abolishin’ slavery.”
“Yes, I read that too,” she said.
“The Union army has discontinued prisoner exchanges due to the fact they believe all released Confederates are ignorin’ their oath and rejoinin’ the Rebel cause.”
He snickered, thinking, under those circumstances, he would disregard his oath too, if forced to take it. However, he wasn’t certain if what he’d read was even true, for he learned Lincoln suspended the Writ of Habeas Corpus and the First Amendment.
Flipping the pages, he found an article that piqued his interest. “There’s been another battle in Virginia that has taken place in the Wilderness near Chancellorsville.” He frowned. “Accounts were reported of unearthed human remains left there from last year.”
David felt a shiver go up his spine. It lingered at the back of his neck. Rubbing it away, he wondered if Jake’s corpse had been exposed. The morbid idea completely shook him. He hoped with all of his heart the headboard he had carved was still intact, so he would be able to find Jake and take him back home when the terrible war finally ended. He remembered it was the anniversary of his best friend’s death. The concept of his remains being defiled seemed unconscionable.
Anna turned to look at him. “Are you all right?”
He gave her a distraught, sullen look. The thought haunted and deeply saddened him. “That’s where Jake’s buried,” he finally said. Unable to elaborate further, he stood and went back outside.
The following Friday, May 13, David came into the kitchen for his midday meal. Anna approached him, her expression so serious he instantly knew something was dreadfully wrong.
“What is it?” he asked, his eyes growing large with concern.
“Please take a seat. I have something tragic to tell you.”
Keeping his eyes fixed on hers, he sank down into a chair. “Does it have somethin’ to do with Jake? Or the battle at Spotsylvania?”
Sarah sat beside him.
“Or North Anna?”
She slightly shook her head.
“What is it, then?”
Anna exchanged glances with her aunt. She looked back at David. “Two days ago, General Stuart was wounded at a place called Yellow Tavern in Virginia. He died last evening, and his funeral is today. I’m so very sorry.”
David felt his heart break. He gaped at her as he tried to come to terms with the words she had just spoken. Turning away, he felt his eyes mist up. He blinked back the tears, pain, and anger. Sporadically, he sighed a few times before he excused himself and went outside. His commander, the “Happy Cavalier,” the man who had so inspired him, as well as all of his comrades, with his noble presence, gallant bravery, and carefree attitude, was dead. David found Renegade out in the pasture. He hugged his stallion. Unable to hold back his sobs, he told him what had happened. The horse seemed to understand, for he raised his head to whinny several times. They remained there until a cold drizzle began to fall, forcing them to retreat inside.
The days steadily grew longer and warmer. A week and a half after he learned the terrible news about his beloved general, David worked in the fields near the road with Patrick. It was the same road he had ridden down when he’d first come across Anna and Abigail while they were picking wildflowers in the ditch. Growing hungry, the young men settled under a sycamore tree to enjoy the roasted pork sandwiches Mrs. Meyers had prepared for them. As they devoured their sandwiches, they noticed several drifters approaching up the road, and watched the black men with fascination.
David recalled how, a year ago he had been sent out with two of his fellow troopers to scout the Pennsylvania countryside in search of food and horses. They came across a freed black couple, took them by force, and turned them in, knowing the couple would be sent down South into bondage. The young woman had been with child. David would never know what became of them, but the incident had haunted him ever since. From then on, he vowed he would always find empathy for their kind.
The three ragged, weather-beaten, barefoot vagrants with straw hats on their heads walked toward them and stopped, their dark eyes gazing out from under their tattered hats.
“How do,” one said.
He appeared to be older than the other two.
Patrick nodded in response.
“We’s jist come up North, and we’s lookin’ fo’ work. Y’all know who might be hirin’?”
Patrick shook his head. “No work for your kind ‘round here,” he replied casually.
David glanced at him and back at the three black men, who stared hungrily. Looking down at the basketful of sandwiches, he withdrew one and handed it to the man who had spoken.
The traveler eagerly snatched it from him. “Why, thank yuh, sir. Thank yuh kindly!” He smiled to reveal several missing teeth. Tearing the sandwich into pieces, he handed a portion to each of his companions.
“Best be headin’ off now,” David said.
The transients gestured by tipping their tattered hats, and walked down the road, eating their meager meal.
As soon as they were gone, David asked, “Are you sure you don’t know anyone who can use them?”
Patrick shook his head. “No nigger tyrant will steal me job, nor that of any other God respectin’ Irishman, for that matter. And you’d be doin’ yourself a favor, lad, to restrain your charity and not to be givin’ any more handouts. For all ye know, they’ll be back to rob us past nightfall.”
Feeling a twinge of embarrassment, David hoped his empathy wouldn’t backfire and jeopardize the ladies’ safety. All of a sudden, he distrusted the freedmen. He resented them for escaping Dixie only to take everyone else’s jobs, and understood Northerners despised them, regardless of their emancipation. Even though the Yankees wanted to liberate the slaves, they didn’t seem willing to support them in any other way. It was yet another hypocrisy he found hard to swallow.
One afternoon in mid-May, he returned from the fields early. Entering the back porch, he pulled the kitchen door open, removed his hat, and looked up to see several young women Anna’s age gawking at him.
“Why there you are,” one of them said.
He recognized her from Christmas Eve.
Mary Montgomery smiled sweetly, entwining her arm around his. “You do remember me, don’t you, David?”
He could feel his face blushing. She had taken the liberty of referring to him by his first name, which astonished him. “Yes, of course, miss. I mean, Mary, miss, ma’am.”
The young ladies chuckled at his awkwardness.
He glanced around the kitchen. “Where might my cousin, Anna, be?”
“Oh, she’s in the parlor at the moment,” said Mary. “Allow me to introduce my friends. This is Nellie Dalton.” She gestured toward a pretty girl with yellow-blonde hair.
“Mr. Summers, I’ve heard so much about you.” She held out her hand.
He wasn’t sure if it was proper protocol for Northerners to kiss the backs of ladies’ hands like it was in the South, but he recalled greeting Mary and her mother that way at Christmas. Assuming Mary had probably relayed that information to her friends, he took Nellie’s hand in his, bent down, and kissed the back of it. She giggled in response.
“And this is Lila Fairfax.”
He gazed upon the small, stocky girl with light brown hair and a brooding expression, and remembered hearing her name. She was Maggie’s best friend, the one who had lost a brother to the war, and the reason Maggie despised the Confederates so bitterly. He greeted her by kissing the back of her hand as well.
“Ladies,” he acknowledged, taking a few steps toward the staircase while carefully enunciating his words. “I’m very happy to make your acquaintance. Please pardon me.”
Trying not to appear too anxious to escape, he bounded up the steps as quickly as possible, went into his room, and drew a deep sigh of relief. Dipping a wash towel into the ceramic bowl on the dresser, he wiped the dirt from his face. He turned toward the door to see Mary standing in the doorway. The sight of her startled him.
“Why, Miss, uh, Mary, what can I do for you?”
His Southern accent escaped slightly, but she didn’t seem to notice. She entered the room, walked over to him, and stood so close he could feel her breath on his face.
“My dear, David, I just want you to know, well, I think you’re very handsome.” She smiled, staring deeply into his eyes.
“Oh, uh, well, thank you.” Taken aback by her intrusion, he glanced at the hallway and hoped Anna, or someone, anyone, would appear to rescue him.
“I’ve been attracted to you ever since we first met on Christmas Eve, and I want you to know, if you have the notion, my father has given his consent for us to court.”
Shocked by the proposition, his eyes grew wide. He gave her a timid, crooked grin, and replied, “Well, I’ll keep that in mind.”
Before she had a chance to respond, he darted around her and quickly escaped from the room. He ran into Maggie as he scurried downstairs. To his relief, he saw Anna sipping tea at the kitchen table with the two other young ladies. She looked up at him and smiled. Seeing his expression, her smile quickly faded.
Without pausing to explain, he went back outside and hurried to put as much distance between him and that Mary girl as possible. Well past nightfall, he returned to the house, ate a cold supper alone at the kitchen table, and retired to his room. A few minutes later, a knock came at the door. He put down his book to answer it.
“What happened this afternoon?” Anna asked him. “You seemed upset.”
He walked back to the bed and sank down on it, “Your friend, Mary, tried to seduce me.”
Anna stifled a snicker. “Why? What did she say?”
“That I can court her if I want to. Her pa gave his consent.”
“Oh, I see what’s happening here.”
Anna sat beside him, causing his heart to flutter with her nearness.
“She has designs on you, but for a reason.”
He grinned, thinking Mary must be taken in by his charms.
“She assumes the farm belongs to you now. If you marry her, our land will inevitably become part of the Montgomery estate.”
David’s confidence was immediately quashed. Raising an eyebrow at her, he asked, “Are you sayin’ she don’t really fancy me?”
She chuckled at his forlorn expression. “I don’t know if she does or not, but I think she has an ulterior motive.”
Dejected for a moment, he struggled to comprehend how Mary was trying to make a fool out of him.
Anna reached out and touched his hand. “Oh, sweetie, I wouldn’t take it personally.” She smiled, moving her hand away. “If you knew Mary at all, you would understand she is a vengeful, vindictive—”
“Vixen?” he added.
She laughed and nodded her head. “Yes, vixen. You’d do well to avoid her.”
“All right, Miss Anna. I promise to veer clear of her.” He grinned. She nudged him playfully. “Why do I git the feelin’ you’re jealous?”
Abruptly, she stood and planted her hands on her hips. “I am not jealous. I just don’t like that she’s trying to take advantage of you. I’m only looking out for your best interest, that’s all.”
“And yours?” He winked at her.
She rolled her eyes, trying hard not to smile, and left the room.
Reclining on the bed, he folded his hands under his head, intrigued by her reaction and the words she had spoken. Of all things, she had called him “sweetie.”
In the morning, he was unpleasantly greeted by Maggie.
“I saw Mary come out of your room yesterday,” she said, snarling at him. “I don’t know what you two were up to, but it’s very uncouth.”
“What?” he asked, stunned.
“I know what I saw. You are such a cad.”
“Miss Maggie, you’ve got it all wrong,” he said with a slight chuckle.
She ignored him. “How dare you,” she growled and stomped off.
David groaned. Once again, he had offended her without trying.