Chapter Fourteen
David felt like he was walking on air. For the next few days, he drifted through his chores, thinking only of Anna. When he returned to her, he couldn’t get enough of her. He was gushy, head-over-heels in love and found himself making up silly songs. One morning as they lay entwined, he delightedly serenaded his beloved with the lyrics he’d contrived and softly sang them to her.
“My sweet, dear Anna, who I adore,
Oh, I will love you forever more,
Put your pretty little hand in mine,
And I will cherish you for all time,
Promise to always be by my side,
Everything you want I will provide,
I’ll do anything that your heart desires,
Your love ignites my soul like fire,
You’ve made me the happiest man alive,
And I am honored that you are now my wife!”
Anna giggled, reveling in the attention he lavished upon her, but her smile suddenly vanished.
“I don’t want to ruin this moment.”
He kissed her. Drawing back, he saw the concern in her eyes. “Don’t worry, darlin’. Everything will be fine, jist like you said.”
“I know. I mean, I hope so. I hope my husband, my songbird, isn’t so distracted he forgets our predicament.”
“I won’t forget.” He knew the potential danger he was in— the peril they were all in—but he didn’t want to think about that. Not now.
Three days after the wedding, Patrick arrived to escort the happy couple to Dover for their portrait. They entered the studio. A tiny spring-mounted bell above it tinkled to announce their arrival. An elderly gentleman, hunched behind the lens of a box camera, prepared to take a photograph of a little girl in flounce and taffeta.
“I’ll be right with you,” he said.
The flash popped.
David jumped.
Anna looked at him and snickered.
The little girl was released to her mother. After several minutes, they received the finished product. The mother smiled at Anna as she and her daughter exited the studio.
“I say, who’s to have their portrait done?” the old man asked, revealing his strong English accent.
“‘Tis these two,” Patrick announced with a grin. “They’ve just been married this Saturday past.”
“Jolly good,” the old gentleman exclaimed, clasping his hands together. “All right then, young lady.” He approached Anna and took her hand. “You will stand here. And you, my dear boy.” Taking David’s hand, he led him over to Anna. “You will stand beside your bride like so.”
He turned David by his shoulders, maneuvering him until he was in the desired position. Walking back to the camera, he hunched behind it and gazed through the lens.
“Over to the left.” The old man motioned with his hand. David shuffled over slightly. “No, back to the right. Pip, pip.”
He returned to his original spot. Anna giggled.
“That’s it! Now hold perfectly still.”
It was all David could do to keep a straight face. After the photograph was taken and developed, he saw he had been unsuccessful.
“Oh, David.” Anna laughed.
He and Patrick both gazed upon the tintype, and Patrick guffawed. Sure enough, David saw his image looking back at him with a crooked grin on his face.
“Well…your ring shows up right nice,” he remarked.
“I posed that way on purpose,” she said.
He gave her a quick kiss.
“Congratulations, you two,” said the photographer. “May you have many happy years ahead of you.”
“Thank you,” the newlyweds replied at once.
Anna whispered something in Patrick’s ear. She told David to wait outside, so he obliged. Gazing down at the tintype, he soon became impatient. He reentered the studio to see Patrick pay the photographer. Anna heard the bell tinkle. Looking over at him, she hid something behind her back. David smiled at her, not wishing to spoil her surprise.
On the return trip, the young men took turns singing songs: Patrick with his rendition of “No Irish Need Apply,” and David with “Here’s Your Mule.” Once they had arrived home, Patrick presented them with a bottle of champagne left over from their reception. Overjoyed, David knew he wasn’t being as cautious as he should be, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was Anna.
His blissful elation was short-lived, however. Reality soon came calling, disrupting their honeymoon. The upcoming Thursday was the Northern nation’s second Thanksgiving. Since the Montgomery’s had hosted them last year, Sarah promised this year the celebration would be held at the Brady household. The last thing David wanted was to participate in a Yankee holiday, especially since Stephen was expected to attend, which disconcerted him even more. But he knew he had no choice, so he unenthusiastically went along with the family’s plans.
The Burrows, who had also been invited, arrived the evening before. Grace enthusiastically hugged and kissed the newlyweds while offering congratulations once again.
“Don’t you look radiant, my dear,” she commented upon seeing Anna, who smiled at her assertion.
The ladies busied themselves with preparations for the next day. Claudia and Abigail made themselves scarce by remaining in Abigail’s bedroom for most of the evening.
Taking their leave, Anna and David retired early, eager to be alone together. He reminded her to stow her ring before their company arrived. In the morning, he awoke with a stiff neck. She offered to rub it.
“Roll over,” she instructed.
He obediently turned onto his stomach.
She gently dug her fingers into his shoulders, paralyzing him with pleasure. He moaned.
Giggling came from outside the bedroom door.
She stopped and whispered, “We have company.” Quietly, she arose from the bed. David turned onto his back to watch her. “I have to tell you a secret, my love,” Anna said loudly. “Something I haven’t told anyone. Not even my sisters.”
He couldn’t help but snicker. Deciding to get in on the act, he said just as loudly, “Well, don’t keep me in suspense, darlin’. Tell me what it is.”
“My secret is this, but you can’t tell a soul.” She hesitated, hearing whispers coming from the other side of the door. “It’s rude to listen in on other people’s conversations.”
At the word “rude,” she quickly turned the knob and threw open the door. Abigail and Claudia tumbled onto the bedroom floor, glasses in hand.
“Abigail how could you?” Anna scolded.
David bit his lower lip, trying not to chuckle. The girls clambered to their feet and attempted to exit, but she blocked their passage of escape.
“Shame on you both for eavesdropping. I’m telling Aunt Sarah,” she informed them, sounding like a little girl herself.
“No. Anna. Please don’t tell,” Abigail begged.
Claudia joined in, whining, “We’ll do anything you ask.”
“In that case, you two will take my place in preparing and cleaning up today’s meal so I may have more time with my new husband.”
“Oh!” they moaned in unison.
“All right,” Abigail reluctantly agreed with a scowl.
They stomped off with their glasses.
The Montgomery’s arrived later that afternoon and were greeted at the front door. The ladies exchanged cordial hugs while the men shook hands.
“David, good to see you again,” Stephen said with a wide smile on his face.
“Likewise, Stephen,” he responded in return, forcing a grin.
“Hello, David,” Mary said, stepping up to him. She placed her hands on his shoulders. “I’m so sorry you couldn’t attend the dance last month. I missed you very much.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him.
“Uh, yes’m, mi—Mary,” he replied, remembering to conceal his Southern drawl. “I’m sorry I missed it too.”
Stephen presented new pictures to the little girls for the stereographs he’d given them the previous Christmas. “These are of London and Paris,” he told them. “See? This is Notre Dame, and here is Big Ben.”
The girls eagerly snatched them from his grasp, politely thanked him, and scampered off upstairs.
“Let me take your coat, Monty,” Mary said to her brother. He handed over his Union officer’s greatcoat.
“Monty?” David asked, raising an eyebrow.
Stephen snickered. “Oh, that’s the nickname my little sister invented for me years ago,” he explained. “It’s short for Montgomery. Have you a nickname, David? Or does everyone refer to you by your Christian name?”
“His middle name is Ezekiel,” Maggie offered. “But he doesn’t like Davy.”
“Oh, so we should call you Zeke then,” Stephen said with a friendly smile.
David threw a worried glance at Anna. “I would rather you didn’t,” he responded sadly. “There’s only one person who called me that, and he’s no longer with us.”
His heart clenched as he remembered how Jake, his best friend and blood brother, had affectionately referred to him by his middle name. For a fleeting moment, he missed him tremendously.
“So sorry, old boy,” said Stephen.
He patted him on the back, but David didn’t fall for it. He knew Stephen was still an insincere, self-righteous popinjay.
The ladies headed toward the kitchen and began finishing touches on dinner. Meanwhile, the men entered the dining room and seated themselves at the table. Mrs. Montgomery presented them with a demijohn of homemade apple cider.
“Enjoy yourselves, gentlemen,” she said happily before returning to the other females.
David soon grew uncomfortable with the prospect that he might slip up, even though Mr. Montgomery and Stephen seemed affable. He decided the best way to alleviate his self-consciousness was to indulge in another glass of cider. The men made small talk until the ladies brought in their feast of two roasted geese, various winter vegetables, biscuits, honey, Irish potatoes, dressing, freshly churned butter, and gravy. They carried in two bottles of white wine and filled everyone’s glasses. Following the blessing, Sarah began passing dishes around the table.
“So, how was your yield this year, David?” asked Mr. Montgomery.
“Very prosperous, sir, regardless of the drought,” he answered.
Stephen smiled at him warmly, relaxing his resistance.
“Tell me, David,” he said. “What do you plan to do after the war is ended, and Bill has returned?”
“Oh, I dunno,” he shyly replied, glancing at Anna, who had seated herself beside him. “I would like to go to college if I could afford to.”
“What about your inheritance?” Mary asked.
“My inheritance?”
“Yes, the one you received from your father in New York, remember?” Anna reminded him.
“Oh that. Uh, it’s all been spent now,” he lied.
“There are several very good schools in this area,” said Mrs. Montgomery. “What is it you’d like to study?”
“Well, I haven’t given it much thought. I was considering becoming a reporter or a writer or perhaps a professor at a university someday.”
Maggie laughed at his remark, but Anna’s searing gaze hushed her.
“So you’d be just like David Copperfield, then,” Stephen said, laughing heartily.
David winced, biting his lower lip to prevent himself from firing back. Anna squeezed his hand under the table.
“Have you considered West Point?” asked Mrs. Montgomery. “Our country is always in need of good soldiers, even after the war ends, what with all the Indian uprisings out West.”
Maggie coughed. She glanced at David.
“No, ma’am,” he responded. “I don’t really care for soldiering.” He avoided making eye contact with Stephen because he knew he was on the verge of saying something he shouldn’t.
“Have you thought about going into law or medicine?” inquired Grace.
He shrugged, gave her a timid smile, and poured himself another glass of wine. “It all takes a heap of money, anyways.”
Abigail giggled at his Southern inflection.
“Well, you’ll have to settle for being a humble gentleman farmer, then,” Mary interposed. “Which is fine by me.”
Anna snorted. Covering up her annoyance, she said to David, “You could go into politics.”
He grinned at her and glanced at her luscious lips, but realizing his mistake, he quickly looked away.
“Yes, yes, my boy,” said Mr. Montgomery. “Why, that would be just the place for a hard-working young man such as yourself. And maybe you could get this country straightened out.”
“Wouldn’t you consider most politicians to be lying thieves?” Sarah asked.
Stephen glared at David. “Thievery comes second nature to some men.” His eyes narrowed.
David remembered the flowers he and Patrick had stolen for Maggie from Mrs. Montgomery’s flower garden.
Grace said, “There are a few good ones, but for the most part, they’re untrustworthy.”
“And many are traitors, such as that lunatic, Jefferson Davis. He’s a humbug, I say. A humbug!” Mr. Montgomery slammed his fist on the table.
Abigail and Claudia jumped in their seats.
“Perhaps we should avoid discussing politics at the table,” Mrs. Montgomery said. “It gets you too worked up, dear.”
David scowled at the remark. “In my opinion, sir, Mr. Lincoln is the humbug. So is Grant. And that tyrant, Sherman.”
A sudden silence enveloped the room.
“Oh?” said Stephen. “Why do you say that?”
“Because it seems to me General Sherman has taken too many liberties.”
“Uncle Billy? What do you mean?” pressed Stephen.
With a frown, David said, “He’s marching all across Georgia, terrorizing those poor folks, doing God knows what. I find it intolerable.”
Mr. Montgomery chuckled. “My dear lad, war is intolerable. If that’s what it takes to teach those secessionists a lesson, then so be it. It’s what they deserve. And won’t it be a wonder if they fail to fire a shot at our boys today, this being our nation’s holiday.”
“They won’t shoot,” David retorted. “Southerners have far more respect and gallantry than that.”
“David,” Anna whispered in an attempt to hush him.
“It’s unacceptable to wage war on innocent women and children,” he continued.
Anna poked his thigh from under the table, but he ignored her and kept on ranting.
“Why, I’ve heard of Southerners being victimized, no, terrorized by the invading Union armies. Folks in north Alabama were assaulted, and their homes were burned to the ground. Everything they owned was taken. And Sherman’s army was none too nice to the darkies, neither,” he said. “The poor coloreds came to them requesting their free papers, and the Yank—er, Union soldiers, just sent them back home. They even whipped and shot some of them.”
Mary’s eyes grew wide. She gasped.
Anna kicked him, but he merely flinched.
“They even defiled the black womenfolk from what I’ve been told,” he added.
“And where did you get all of this information?” Stephen inquired skeptically.
“From a friend,” David replied. “This happened back in sixty-two, so I can only imagine what might be taking place in Georgia now, with two more years of demonic influences under the Federals’ belts.”
Mr. Montgomery raised an eyebrow at him and grunted. Stephen stared at him.
“And I ain’t impressed with Mr. Lincoln for allowing it all to happen.” He stuffed a forkful of dressing into his mouth.
“Try a biscuit, David,” Maggie said from across the table. “It will keep your mouth busy for a while, and it tastes much better than cornbread.”
Anna glared at her sister. She quickly stood. “Anyone for dessert?” she asked, taking David’s half-consumed plate from him.
“Oh, let me assist you,” Sarah said. Rising to her feet, she proceeded to gather empty plates.
“David,” said Anna, “please be a dear and come into the kitchen for a moment.”
He glanced up at her, saddened she had removed his uneaten portion. Shoving his forkful of food into his mouth, he swallowed down the remainder of his wine. “Pardon me.” He stood and followed her into the kitchen.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she verbally thrashed him in a harsh whisper. “Do you want them to suspect you?”
He chuckled. “Oh, darlin’, they don’t suspect me for nothin’.”
“Well, they might, darling,” she fired back, quickly placing slices of cherry pie onto plates.
“You’d be wise not to discuss your personal feelings any further,” Sarah advised as she set the plates she’d collected on the counter.
“Yes’m,” he replied. “I’m sorry. Mr. Montgomery’s bad-mouthin’ ole Jeff Davis gits me riled up.”
“We know, but you have to bite your tongue,” Anna said. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and handed him two plates.
He followed her back to the table. Seating himself, he remarked to his new bride, “Sure could go for a cup of coffee with this,” and winked at her.
Anna sighed. “An entire pot of coffee is what you need,” she remarked under her breath. She left the table, returning moments later with the silver set.
Following dinner, everyone gathered in the parlor for a piano concerto, performed by Abigail. She played several tunes flawlessly and finished with “Just Before the Battle Mother,” with Stephen and Grace singing along.
Caught up in emotional remembrances, David started to well up. He apologized for his unruly behavior at the dinner table. Excusing himself from the group, he retired upstairs. His head started spinning, and tears streamed down his cheeks as he climbed the steps.
“What’s wrong with David?” he heard Mrs. Montgomery ask.
“He’ll be fine,” said Sarah. “He’s partaken in too many spirits this evening, I believe.”
David walked into his room and opened the window, deciding fresh air might help clear his head. He heard the Montgomery’s announce it was time to go. After bidding their hostesses farewell, they boarded their carriage. David listened in on their conversation.
“That boy’s a Southern sympathizer if I ever heard one,” Mr. Montgomery remarked.
“I quite agree, Father,” said Stephen. “Why has he been so quiet for so long, but now he’s suddenly become outspoken and even offensive in his way of thinking?”
“It’s very unsettling, my boy,” Mr. Montgomery said. He slapped the reins, and the carriage started down the lane.
David’s heart clenched. He hoped the Montgomery’s weren’t onto him. Although his head was swimming, he knew he had to be more careful on Anna’s account. It was his responsibility to protect her.
Early the next morning, he awoke with a start. He heard loud voices downstairs. Springing out of bed, he became aware of his headache and groaned. Anna wasn’t beside him. Rushing to pull on his clothes, he stumbled down the steps and entered the kitchen, where he found her. She and Grace were seated at the table. Grace held Claudia in her arms, rocking her back and forth like an infant.
“What’s goin’ on?” he asked.
“It’s Claudia again,” Anna explained to him softly. “She’s had another episode.”
“Oh,” he said with a frown. “Is she all right?”
Anna sighed. “Come with me.” She took him by the hand and led him upstairs to the bedroom.
He sank down onto the bed, his head throbbing.
“I don’t know if Claudia is all right at all,” she said, sitting beside him. “Her episodes seem to be getting much worse. We must pray for her wellbeing and hope the doctors can find a way to help her.”
He nodded in agreement, and remembered his self-inflicted pain. Letting out a moan, he put his fingertips to his temple. “My head hurts,” he complained.
Anna snickered. “Serves you right,” she said. “Perhaps next time you won’t drink so much.”
Claudia and her mother went home later that evening, thankfully taking Buster with them. The dog had become a major annoyance to David by chewing his bootstraps, socks, and anything else he could sink his puppy teeth into. For some reason, only David’s things were targets for the little dog, so he was glad to see him go.
Two weeks of cool weather ensued. He read of more Confederate desertions and summated that, since Lincoln’s reelection, the South was losing its will to fight.
He learned of a battle at Sand Creek in Colorado Territory on November 29, and remembered one of his schoolmates, who had moved there at the start of the war. According to reports, 150 Cheyenne were killed. Some papers commended Colonel Chivington and his soldiers for “covering themselves in glory.” Other publications reported the truth, however. The Colorado militia had actually murdered unarmed women, children, and elderly. The battle wasn’t a battle at all, but a vicious massacre. This seemed unjustly cruel to David. He realized the Yankees were inflicting the same terrible, brute force on the “savages” as they were on the South.
A few days later, the Brady’s received an invitation to attend a party in honor of Mary’s twenty-first birthday. Sarah graciously accepted. The event was scheduled for Saturday, December 10. When the day arrived, David’s apprehension escalated.
“I don’t want to go,” he told his wife. “She’ll jist be comin’ after me, and I have some things I’d like to git done around here.”
“We’re all invited, sweetie, including you,” Anna responded, giving him a kiss. “Our neighbors would be offended if you didn’t attend.”
“But I need to git started on Christmas gifts, since I only have two weeks left.”
“Yes, I know, but I want you to come with me this afternoon,” she insisted. “Please come with me. I would feel awkward being alone with Stephen when you’re the one I love.”
The tone of her voice weakened his resistance. He couldn’t refuse any further, so he relented. “All right. As long as you keep Mary away from me, I’ll escort y’all.”
She kissed him again. “Of course. Now let’s make ready.”
Perched on his mount, Stephen watched the Brady’s landau drive up the road toward his family’s house situated atop an adjacent hill. With the vehicle no longer in sight, he made his descent. Riding into his neighbor’s barnyard, he tied his horse and entered the kitchen. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, only that his suspicions had been aroused. Walking through each room, he looked around for anything that seemed out of place.
The main floor seemed to be in order, so he went upstairs to the bedrooms. Entering Anna’s father’s room, he noticed her dressing table against the wall. Her perfume, looking glass, and various accessories including a framed tintype of a man and woman were displayed on top. He didn’t take time to observe the photo, but assumed it to be an old photograph of her parents.
“She must have moved in here to have her own chamber,” he said out loud to himself.
Pulling open several drawers other than the top one, he failed to find anything out of the ordinary. Some of Mr. Brady’s clothes still remained, which struck him as odd. He reasoned Anna wasn’t yet able to part with his articles. Glancing at the bedside table, he noticed a small Testament. He picked it up, turned it in his hands, and set it back down without opening it.
His search led him to the girls’ bedrooms, but he failed to discover anything strange. He went back downstairs to the kitchen and wondered if he might have interpreted David’s actions the wrong way. Still, something was disconcerting about him.
“Maybe it has something to do with that horse.”
He walked out to the barn and saw Renegade in the far stall. The stallion raised his head to look at him as he entered.
“Hey there, fella,” Stephen said, reaching out to stroke the horse’s muzzle.
Renegade snapped at him.
He quickly withdrew his hand. “Why, you loathsome beast,” he growled.
He noticed the whip hanging from a nail on one of the posts. For a moment, he considered using it, but stopped himself short. Instead, he opened the door to the pasture, unlatched the gate to Renegade’s stall, and pulled it back. The stallion trotted outside. Stephen sighed, relieved the demon horse had exited without further exertion on his part. He glanced around the barn. The cows stood staring at him. Anna’s two dogs entered and sniffed around the barn floor. He saw two saddlebags thrown over a rail and looked inside but found them empty. Frustrated, he stood with one hand on his hip while scratching his head with the other.
A barn cat ran in. One of the dogs chased it into a gap in the wall boards. Stephen walked to the wall and kicked the barking collie away.
“Get back,” he commanded.
With a yelp, the large dog dodged his foot and trotted to the other side of the barn. Stephen gazed down into the boards. Several sets of glowing eyes looked back at him. Startled at first, his eyes adjusted to the dark.
“Kittens,” he remarked to himself.
Looking in again, he noticed the litter cuddled inside a piece of cloth. He inquisitively reached in, enduring numerous hisses and scratches before pulling the cloth out. It was musty, mildewed, and yellowish-brown in color. Turning it over in his hands, he realized what it was.