Chapter Twenty-Eight
After an hour passed, Anna heard the landau return. She ran downstairs to greet her aunt.
“I found Doctor Spencer and he’s on his way,” said Sarah. “Go boil some water, add salt and vinegar, and bring a glass up to David.”
Her aunt went upstairs while Anna did as instructed. She saw a buggy arrive outside. A thin man with graying temples and spectacles climbed out. She opened the front door to greet him.
“Hello, Doctor Spencer,” she said, allowing him to enter. “My aunt told you what happened, I assume?”
“Yes, my dear,” he said stoically, walking ahead of her through the house with his medical bag in tow. “And it’s quite a story, I must say.” He entered the kitchen. “Upstairs?” he asked, pointing an index finger in that direction.
She nodded.
The doctor sprinted up the steps with Anna close behind. They entered the bedroom.
Sarah walked across the room to greet them. “Doctor Spencer,” she acknowledged. Gently taking Anna by the arm, she led her toward the doorway.
The doctor noticed and said, “You both may stay.”
Sarah smiled at her niece.
The doctor set his black bag on the bedside table and pried it open.
Hearing the commotion, David opened his eyes. He looked over to see Doctor Spencer. “Anna, no doctors,” he hoarsely insisted. “They only mean death is comin’.”
Anna exchanged glances with the doctor.
“Don’t be silly,” she said. “Doctor Spencer drove for miles to get here. I know you don’t feel well, but please try to be cordial.”
He complied. “Beggin’ your pardon, sir.”
“That’s quite all right,” the doctor said. He looked at Anna. “My dear, did you prepare saltwater?”
Anna nodded.
“I’ll go fetch it.” Sarah said and quickly departed.
“I’m Doctor George Washington Spencer,” he said to David. “Sarah tells me you’ve recently returned from the war.” Producing a stethoscope, he positioned the ear tips in his ears.
“Yessir,” David replied. “I jist got out of Elmira. Purt near two weeks ago.”
The doctor set the cold chest piece against his patient’s feverish, clammy skin. “Elmira, you say?”
“Yessir.”
Doctor Spencer glanced at him over the tops of his spectacles. “Wasn’t that a Confederate prison camp?” he asked.
“Yessir. It was.”
He paused for a moment but showed no emotion.
David and Anna looked at each other. She smiled at him.
The doctor asked David to sit up and remove his nightshirt. He checked his patient from head to toe and from front to back, taking notice of the scar on his left shoulder and the other one on his right thigh. Sarah returned with a cup, so Doctor Spencer asked David to take a few sips. He obeyed but nearly gagged on the putrid combination.
“What’s this mark on your arm?” Anna asked, her eyebrows furrowing with concern.
“Oh, that’s from my small pox vaccination,” David informed her.
“You’ll need to rest for several days,” the doctor said. “I’ll check on you then.”
“Thanks, Doc,” he responded with a weak smile. A stomach cramp arrested him. He lay back with a moan.
The doctor pulled Anna aside. “My dear, he needs plenty of rest and fluids. Give him horehound tea for his chills and the vinegar saltwater every few hours. For his back, apply this balm.” He extracted a jar from his bag and handed it to her.
“What’s this for?” she asked.
“For his back,” he reiterated. Collecting his bag, he smiled at her and went downstairs.
She set the jar on the bedside table. “I’ll return soon, darling.” She followed the doctor downstairs.
“I haven’t been up to that room in quite a while,” the doctor remarked under his breath. “Since your sister, Abigail, was born.” He wisely avoided mentioning her mother, who had died on that very same day.
Anna considered reminding him he had been there to visit her father before he died, but decided to leave it unmentioned, reasoning it must have slipped his mind.
Doctor Spencer met Maggie and Sarah in the kitchen and bid them good day before walking down the hall to the front door. “Good to see you again, my dear,” he said, turning to face Anna. “I’ll be back on Monday, but call on me if I you need me sooner. He’s going to require at least two weeks of bedrest and inactivity. Otherwise, he will only delay his recovery.”
The doctor strode to his buggy, climbed in, and waved before driving down the lane.
Anna returned to her husband. Picking up the jar of balm, she said, “Doctor Spencer gave me this to put on your back.” She stared at him.
Knowing his secret was out, he sighed and rolled over onto his side.
The sight that befell her eyes horrified her. “Oh!” she gasped, nearly dropping the jar. “What happened to you?”
Carefully touching the enflamed slash marks spanning his back, she felt like she might scream. She suppressed the urge, opened the jar, and gently rubbed the balm over his red scars. He flinched slightly but relaxed, allowing her to finish.
“How did you get these?” she asked.
“He looked up at her, expressing something between a frown and a smile. “I did a bad thing,” he replied.
“What did you do?” She sat beside him on the bed.
“I tried to protect another comrade who was gettin’ beat on by an officer. I reacted too soon, and the officer had me whipped.” He closed his eyes.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why did you keep this from me?”
He groaned. “I didn’t want you to fret, darlin’. You’ve had enough to deal with.” He reached over and took her hand but kept his eyes shut.
She wanted to be angry with him for keeping something so significant from her. Under any other circumstances, she would have easily expressed her anger. But seeing him lying there, frail and hurting, she couldn’t bring herself to scold him. Instead, she made him take another drink from the cup, sat down in the rocker, and watched him sleep.
After a while, her aunt came up to relieve her. Throughout the day, they took turns sitting with him.
Near dusk he awoke, still feverish, and called out for Anna.
She arose from the rocker and came to his side. “I’m here, darling,” she said, placing a damp cloth on his forehead. “Here, drink this.” She gave him more vinegar saltwater.
He took a few gulps, coughed, and lay back against the pillow. “Anna,” he croaked, gazing intently at her. “If I should die, don’t send me back home, and don’t bury me alone in some graveyard. I want to be laid to rest beside you.”
She glared at him. “Don’t you dare talk that way, Mr. Summers. You are not going to die. Do you hear me?”
He softly moaned.
“You’ve just returned to me, and I won’t lose you again.” Seating herself in the rocker, she added under her breath, “I’m too young to be a widow.” Overwhelmed, she quietly sobbed. Momentarily, she regained her composure and softly prayed. “Dear Lord, please don’t take him from me. I need him now more than ever. If you can hear me, Lord, please do this one thing for me. Please heal him. Amen.”
He slept through the night and throughout the following day. On Friday his fever broke, and he was able to keep broth down. Anna changed his sheets several times and brought in a bouquet of roses. She placed them in a porcelain vase on the dresser. Their sweet fragrance filled the air, replacing the smell of sickness that had lingered there for days.
Mary appeared on Saturday. “Good morning,” she cheerfully greeted Maggie and Anna. “Mother sent me over to invite you to tea tomorrow afternoon. Stephen has returned.”
“Oh?” asked Maggie. “He’s back from Washington City?”
“Yes. He arrived last night. He wanted me to tell you, Anna, that he’s anxious to see you again.”
Anna did her best to keep from snarling. “Tell him hello,” she said flatly.
A sorrowful expression crossed Mary’s face.
“What is it?” Maggie asked.
“I so wish your cousin could find a way to return from New York.” She whimsically sighed, twirling one of her blonde pipe curls around her forefinger. “Have you heard from him?”
Anna and Maggie exchanged glances.
“We have heard from him,” Anna said slowly.
“And it’s probable he will return,” said Maggie.
“But don’t get your hopes up,” said Anna. “I’ve a feeling he already has a girl.”
“Oh, really?” asked Mary, her expression darkening. “What gives you that idea?”
“It’s just a hunch. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Anna trotted up the steps, overhearing her sister as she ascended.
“I’m not sure we’ll be able to attend,” said Maggie. “Uncle Bill has returned, and…he isn’t well. But tell your mother we appreciate the invitation.”
“Oh, Stephen will be so disappointed—“
Anna closed the bedroom door behind her. She turned to see her husband, fast asleep, and smiled. Her beau, her gallant knight, had finally returned. She almost didn’t believe it because she had waited, wished, and dreamt of it for so long. Her mind flashed back to the night he had limped into her life, a wounded warrior so close to death with a tortured soul and a broken heart. He had been the enemy, an uninvited Rebel, who had ridden up on his crippled steed and had stolen her heart. The noble young man who was now her husband. She sat on the bed beside him, and gently kissed his cheek.
Within days, he was able to sit up and start reading the book Maggie and Abigail had given him, but he could only manage small fragments before tiring again. He showed Anna the letters he had received from his mother and sisters while he was in prison and explained that his mother had a new beau, who was an old friend. He shared his concern that the farm might not be his when he returned to Alabama.
“She would never do that to you,” Anna assured him. “Besides, you have this farm.”
He sighed. “This is your farm, Anna, for you to do with as you please. I told you from the start I had no interest in it.”
“Even so, what’s yours is mine, and what’s mine is yours.”
For a moment, he submitted. Smiling weakly, he said, “Darlin’, could you write a letter to my kinfolk and let them know I’m here?”
“Of course.”
She went downstairs. Shortly, she returned with paper, pen, and ink. Dragging the rocker up close to the bedside table, she seated herself and dipped the pen into the inkwell.
She said slowly, “Do they know about me?”
By the way he bit his lower lip, she knew the answer immediately.
“I didn’t tell them because I feared for your safety. We’re fixin’ to tell them right now. That’s why I’m havin’ you write this.”
She frowned at him. “What should I write?”
“Tell them your name, that I’m here recuperatin’, that we were married last November, and that you’re lookin’ forward to meetin’ them all.”
“I can’t do that. You should be the one to tell them.”
“And I would, but I ain’t able. I need you to do it. Please, honey.”
Pausing briefly, she started dragging the pen over the paper. David closed his eyes.
After a few minutes, she announced, “I’m finished.”
“Let’s hear it,” he requested.
“Dear Mrs. Summers, Rena, and Josephine,
My name is Anna. I am writing to tell you David has been released from prison, and he is with me on my farm near Dover, Pennsylvania. He has taken ill, so it will be several weeks until he is fully recovered. In the meantime, he has asked that I write for him. David and I were married last November. We were friends for quite some time before that. You see, he was wounded at Gettysburg, and he found his way to me. I realize this must come as quite a shock. We are planning to travel to Alabama for a visit as soon as he is recovered. I very much look forward to our meeting.
Yours truly,
Anna.”
She looked up from the paper, waiting for his approval.
He shrugged. “It ain’t too personal, but I reckon it’ll do.”
She thrust her lower lip out in a pout.
“I mean, it’s, uh, very nice.” He smiled, coaxing her to smile back. “What’s that part about goin’ for a visit?”
Anna stood. “I don’t intend to stay. I’m a Yankee, remember? Your family, and everyone else down South for that matter, won’t want anything to do with me.”
“Yes they will. They’ll all love you, darlin’, same as me. As far as goin’ down for jist a visit, well, we’ll talk about that later on.”
She took the letter downstairs. Justifying her stance, she told herself that her husband would find out soon enough. She had no intention of staying in Alabama. Her home was here, and she could never leave it for very long. A visit was all she would allow, whether he liked it or not. But deep down inside, she knew. She had never ventured far from home, except for her trip to Elmira, and truth be told, she was deathly afraid of what awaited her in the strange land of Alabama.
On Sunday, she asked Maggie to take her place at David’s bedside while she caught up on chores.
“I’d rather not,” said Maggie.
“Please. I’ll only be gone for a little while.”
With a sigh, Maggie relented. “Oh, all right.” She took a seat in the rocker as Anna left the room.
Hearing their conversation, David stirred. “Anna?”
“She isn’t here,” Maggie responded.
David groggily blinked the sleep from his eyes. “Oh,” he groaned. He reached over, picked up a glass from the bedside table, and took a sip. After clearing his throat, he stated, “Miss Maggie, you’ve been avoidin’ me, and I want to know why.”
“I have not. I’m right here now, aren’t I?” Refusing to look at him, she stared out the window as she rocked. A bluebird chirped outside.
He grunted. “Well, yeah, but you’re still avoidin’ me. We need to discuss what happened.”
Her expression told him she knew what he was referring to.
“I’d rather not,” she said and adamantly shook her head.
“Miss Maggie,” he insisted, but decided instead to change the subject. “Your birthday’s comin’ up, ain’t it? Next Wednesday?”
She nodded.
“You’re what now, almost seventeen?”
She smiled slightly.
“Would you like a cake or a purty new dress for your special day?”
Staring down at her lap, she quietly replied, “There’s only one thing I want.”
“Oh? What would that be?”
“Your forgiveness.” She looked over at him. Tears trickled down her cheeks.
“Miss Maggie,” he said. “There ain’t nothin’ to forgive. You did what you thought was best.”
“But they took you away. You nearly died, and for what it did to Anna—I’ll never forgive myself.” She burst into tears, burying her face in her hands.
Tempted to console her, he waited for her to calm down instead. “Miss Maggie,” he said slowly.
She sniffled and looked up at him, wiping her tears.
“I gave it a lot of thought while I was in prison, and you did the right thing. If I would have fired on those fellers, I would’ve been shot or hung, but here I am. I wouldn’t be, if it weren’t for you.”
“Oh,” she replied.
David could tell she hadn’t considered that before. “Anna doesn’t know what happened,” he went on, “and we should jist keep it that way.”
Maggie nodded. “I took a freak when they spirited you away,” she admitted.
“Took a freak?”
“It nearly scared me to death.” She sniffed again. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
He reached over, took her hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I know. It’s all in the past. Now what kind of cake would you like?”
That night, as Anna lay sleeping beside him, he listened to the soft, steady rhythm of her breathing until he finally dozed off. He saw hundreds of men who looked like they were starved—living corpses mulling about, floating in and out of dark nothingness—and recognized their surroundings. It was Elmira. None of the men had eyes, but only black holes in their heads. Their arms hung by their sides as they shuffled around. Someone approached him through the crowd. He didn’t look dead like the others. David recognized him immediately.
“Trouble’s comin’, Zeke,” Jake told him. “Trouble’s almost here.”
He sat up, gasping.
“David?” Anna asked, her voice filled with sleep. “What is it?”
“Nothin’.” Running his long fingers through his damp, shoulder-length hair, he whispered, “Go back to sleep,” and forced himself to lie back down.
She snuggled up to him, which comforted him. Still, he couldn’t fall asleep again for hours. Jake’s ominous words haunted him. He didn’t understand why, which terrified him even more.
In the morning, she brought him breakfast in bed: toast, apple butter, and coffee. He ate slowly since his stomach still objected. Anna helped him downstairs for a bath and a shave. By the time Doctor Spencer arrived, David was cleaned up and back in bed.
The doctor had him sit up while he checked him over. “Well, you seem to be coming along,” he observed. “How do you feel?”
“Kinda weak,” David replied. “My stomach ain’t lettin’ me eat much, neither.”
“He sleeps most of the day,” added Anna, “and he still has some cramping, but I think that’s improving, along with his diarrhea.”
Embarrassed, David looked down at the sheets, although he knew he couldn’t help it.
“Are you drinking plenty of water?” Doctor Spencer inquired.
“Yessir,” he said.
“With the salt and vinegar every few hours?”
He nodded. “I’m gettin’ mighty tired of that awful taste, though.”
“Have you run out of the balm I gave you, Anna?” the doctor asked.
“Nearly,” she told him.
He gave her another jar from his bag. “Keep rubbing this on his back, and the redness should ease in another week or two.” Turning to David, he said, “Young man, I want you to continue with bed rest. Toward week’s end, you should be feeling much better. But I don’t want you out of this bed until I return next week to check on you. Understood?”
“Yessir, he reluctantly agreed and closed his eyes. The morning’s events had exhausted him.
Once Doctor Spencer had gone, Anna stayed at her husband’s bedside and steadfastly watched over him. David heard Sarah enter the room.
“How’s he doing, Anna?” she asked.
“Better, I think. He said if he dies, he wants to be buried here in our family plot. I can’t bear to think of laying him to rest.”
“You won’t need to, dear. I’m sure he’ll be just fine. Perhaps we should say a short prayer of thanks and ask for his continued improvement.”
They did so and chanted “Amen” together.
Anna sighed. “He’s been through so much,” she said softly.
“I know, dear.”
“He’s obviously been starved and whipped. He told me the men in prison had to sleep on the cold ground or on wooden slats with no padding. He walked all the way back home, thinking the entire time I might reject him. Once he arrived, he fell ill. And he’s afraid his mother will remarry, and that he’ll lose his birthright to their farm.”
“I thought he wasn’t interested in farming,” said Sarah.
“I’m not certain he knows what he wants.”
“I want what you want.” David opened his eyes to see Sarah and Anna staring at him.
“We thought you were asleep,” said Anna. “So why aren’t you?”
“I’d rather eavesdrop.”
Sarah chuckled. “I’ll check on you two later.” She walked out of the room.
“Go to sleep, “Anna instructed. “You need your rest.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He closed his eyes, but the thump of approaching footsteps alerted him. He opened his eyes to see Abigail enter.
“Oh, he’s awake.” She plopped down on the bed.
“Abigail, let him rest,” Anna said.
“Okay. But can I sing him a song first? We sang it on the way to your wedding, and I think it will make him feel better.”
Anna and David exchanged glances.
“All right,” Anna said. “Go ahead.”
Abigail proceeded to sing “Dixie’s Land,” but Anna saw the pain in her husband’s eyes, so she cut her sister’s song short.
“Honey, see if Aunt Sarah needs some help, would you?”
“But I’m not done.”
“I know, sweetheart. But he really does need his rest.”
Abigail looked at David and sighed. “Okay. I’ll come back up later to finish the song.”
He forced a smile. “That would be fine, Miss Abigail.”
She flounced out of the room.
Upon hearing his nation’s anthem, David reflected pensively, “The Confederates have lost the war. My pa and Jake died for nothin’.” Emotion and weariness overpowered him. Unable to hold back any longer, he began to weep.
“Oh, honey,” she said compassionately, sitting on the bed beside him.
He reached around her.
She cradled him in her arms. “It’s going to be all right,” she comforted, struggling to hold back her own tears while stroking his head. “Abigail didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
“I know,” he whispered. “It’s jist that, hearin’ that song, it—it breaks my heart.” He sat up, wiping away his tears with the sleeve of his nightshirt. “What are we fixin’ to find when we git there, Anna?” he asked.
The expression in his eyes bore into her soul. “I don’t know, sweetie.”
“I’m sorry,” he softly said.
“For what?”
“For everything. For bein’ weak, and lettin’ you see me cry.”
“Oh, honey,” she said sympathetically. “You’re not feeling well. It’s perfectly understandable.”
“For bringin’ you into all of this.”
She said, expelling a sigh, “I love you, and that’s all that matters.”
He sniffed and smiled at her.
She tenderly kissed him.
That evening she fed him broth, but he complained it hurt his stomach. He refused to eat anything else.
“I can’t allow you to waste away,” she told him. With a sigh, she said under her breath, “This will be the longest two weeks of my life.”
He felt too weak to respond. His illness eased but returned to attack him soon after. Anna lay beside him, gently stroking his arm until he fell asleep.
In the morning, Abigail came into the room to wake him. “Today is Maggie’s birthday,” she proclaimed.
David looked up from the York Daily Record. “Yes, I know,” he replied.
Noticing his forlorn expression, Abigail plopped down beside him. “David, Anna says you’re melancholy. Why are you sad?” she asked.
He sighed. Laying the newspaper across his lap, he said, “There’s too much unpleasant news in the paper is all.”
“Well, don’t read it then.” She giggled.
He gave her a disheartened smile. “I still want to know what’s goin’ on, Miss Abigail.”
“Okay,” she said. “Are you sad because your side lost?”
With a frown, he remarked, “There’s a lot more to it than that.”
She grasped his hand. “Don’t fret,” she assured him with a smile.
“Miss Abigail,” he said, averting her attention, as well as his own. “There’s somethin’ for you in the top dresser drawer. A belated birthday gift.”
Her eyes lit up. Jumping to her feet, she rushed over to get it. She found the Stephen doll with the pin protruding from it and wrinkled her nose. “This?”
“No.” He chuckled.
She set the doll on top of the dresser and rummaged around inside the drawer. “This?” she asked, holding up the rabbit’s foot.
“It ain’t much, but it’s all I have to give you right now. A woman I met on the way home gave it to me. It’s supposed to bring good luck.”
“Really?” Her eyes grew wide. “Do I just make a wish, and it will come true?”
David shrugged. “Reckon so.”
Abigail bounded over and threw her arms around him. “Thank you.” Straightening up, she gazed at the claw and stroked its soft fur. “Did the buckeye bring you good luck?” she asked.
He hesitated for a moment. “Yeah,” he said thoughtfully.
She stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate.
Deciding to skip over the details, he added, “It helped me in prison, so I could return back here to y’all.”
She smiled, apparently satisfied with his meager explanation. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she asked, “Have you ever known something was going to happen before it did?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Well, I’ve had strange dreams before,” he replied.
“My friend, Dolly, told me her mother has presentments and she can see the future.”
David snorted. “I don’t know if that’s true.”
“It is! And she told me Mrs. Lincoln has spiritual guides come to her house all the time so she can talk to her dead son and the president from the other side.”
He winced. “Well, that might be, but—”
“And I have singular visions myself.”
“You do?”
“Yes.” She nodded emphatically. “I knew you would come back. I kept telling Anna so, and see, here you are.”
“Yup, here I am.” He grinned.
“I also knew when the war would end. I told Aunt Sarah the week before General Lee surrendered, and I even knew which day.”
“You did?”
“Uh huh.”
“Well, that’s amazin’. Can you tell me this?”
“What?” she asked.
“Can you tell me when you’re fixin’ to clean out the chicken house? Your sister says you’ve been puttin’ it off.”
She gave him a playful shove. “Oh, don’t believe me then. But you will someday.”
He smiled. “Would you do me a favor and fetch the carvin’ I made? It’s on Anna’s dressin’ table.”
Doing as he asked, she walked over to the table and found the carving sitting on top of it. “Is this it?” she inquired.
He nodded. It had been Anna’s idea to give it to Maggie for her birthday. He’d agreed to her wish, resolving he could create another one for her someday if she so desired.
“Did you make this?” Abigail asked.
“Yeah. In prison,” he responded solemnly.
“Ooh,” she stated in awe, looking it over.
Upon his request, she wrapped it in paper, attached a card with David’s signature, and helped him downstairs. He presented it to the birthday girl.
“Please don’t throw it in the fire this time,” he said.
To his surprise, Maggie hugged him. “I won’t. Thank you very much.”
He and Anna exchanged glances. She smiled at him.
Later on, after he had rested for several hours, he joined the family for supper and cake. He was unable to consume much since he had no appetite, but he did indulge in half a piece of the rich, creamy layer cake. Soon he regretted it, however, because it made his stomach cramp. He returned to the bedroom. After tossing and turning for most of the night, he finally fell asleep.
He awoke to the sound of excited voices outside. Pulling himself up, he wobbled to the window and saw Sarah and Abigail drive away. Soon, Anna returned to him.
“What’s goin’ on?” he inquired.
“Aunt Sarah said only that she and Abigail should go see Claudia and her parents today.” She shrugged and sat down in the rocker with her knitting.
An hour passed. Hearing the dogs bark outside, she stood and looked out the window. Her sudden gasp captured his attention. She quickly turned to face him.
“I’m going downstairs, sweetheart. I’ll be back in a moment.”
She abruptly left. The back porch door slammed, and he could hear Anna conversing. He recognized the other voice at once. Comprehending the quandary that was close at hand, he stood, pulled his trousers on under his nightshirt, and lay back down against the pillows, straining to hear their conversation.
“I told you I’d return soon. You know what that means.”
“What?” she asked.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know. We discussed it. I need to go upstairs to take measurements.”
“You can’t!”
“What do you mean I can’t?”
Footsteps clunked up the steps.
“No, wait,” Anna said. “I have something to show you downstairs.”
“I have to take a look at the bed, Anna. Mother wishes to sew us a new coverlet for our wedding.”
The door opened. He entered the room. Anna came in behind him, still trying to block his entry. He was dressed in civilian clothing. David realized it was the first time he had seen him without his Yankee uniform.
Stephen scowled upon discovering him. His eyes narrowed to slits. “You,” he snarled. “I warned you never to come back here.”
David shrugged. “Well, here I am, anyways.” He coyly grinned at him.
“I was told you boarded the train to Richmond.”
“I did. But then I decided to walk back.”
Stephen took a step toward him. David didn’t cower.
“The War of the Rebellion is over. Why haven’t you gone home to Alabama? Or wherever it is you’re from,” Stephen groused.
David smirked at him. “Anna has some news for you, Montgomery. Don’t you, darlin’?”
Her eyes grew wide. “David, I—”
“Go on,” he prompted. “The war’s over. There ain’t no reason to keep it a secret any longer.”
“Keep what a secret?” Stephen looked at her for a response.
Maggie came up the steps and stood at the doorway behind her sister.
“What is he talking about, Anna?” Stephen insisted.
“Well, it’s just that, well, you’ve always been like a brother to me, and, well, I’ve come to the conclusion that, well, I could never, I mean, I cannot ever, no, I will not ever marry you,” she stammered.
Whirling to face David, he roared, “What have you been telling her?”
David wryly grinned, amused with the position he was in. “Oh, nothin’, ‘cept I love her, and she loves me, and we’re husband and wife.”
Stephen stared angrily at him, but then burst into hysterical laughter.
Anna and Maggie exchanged apprehensive glances.
“Being in prison must have caused you to lose your mind,” he bellowed.
“No, on the contrary. And by the way, I’ll have to properly thank you later on for havin’ me incarcerated.” David glowered at him. He turned his gaze to Anna. “Show him our license, Anna.”
She reluctantly walked over to her dressing table, pulled open a drawer, and withdrew the certificate. Stephen snatched it from her grasp. His mouth slightly dropped open as his eyes scanned over it.
“I’ll be damned,” he said, tossing the license onto the dressing table. “I never would have guessed from your letters.”
“Whose letters?” Anna asked.
David glared at him. “You intercepted them, didn’t you? You found a way.”
“Yes, dear lad, I have to admit I did.” He pulled several sheets of folded paper from his coat pocket and threw them at David. The papers separated midair, floating to the floor like giant pieces of confetti.
David put two-and-two together. Somehow, the letter he’d given to Amos had found its way to Anna, but the rest had been seized by Union officials and given to Stephen, no doubt per his explicit instructions. Once again, a flash of gratitude for Amos flashed through David’s mind.
“Now, about this farce of a wedding,” he heard Stephen say.
“We were married last November,” Anna explained quietly.
“I can see that,” Stephen snarled. “But that document is worthless,” he stated.
“What do you mean?” inquired Maggie.
“Summers falsified his information by claiming he was from Albany.”
“So?” asked Anna.
“So, that nullifies the contract.” He defiantly looked down his nose at her.
Then, they’re not really married?” Maggie asked, flashing a shocked look at her sister.
“Pshaw. Don’t listen to him, Anna,” David interjected. “He’s lyin’.”
Stephen glared at him. He looked over to watch Anna place the certificate back in the drawer. The portrait caught his eye. Reaching around her, he grabbed it from the table. He looked down at it and back up at the two of them. His face contorted with loathing. He violently hurled the tintype at the wall. The glass shattered into shards.
“How could you, Anna?” he screamed lividly, turning to face her. “Did he lie to you about who he really is, or did you know all along? How could you marry a Rebel? A traitor to our country? What have you done, Anna? Are you guilty of treason?”
She backed away from him, speechless.
“Anna doesn’t have to answer any of your questions,” David remarked smugly. “Regardless of what you say, she is my wife. So, I reckon you’ll never get your filthy hands on her. Or this here farm, neither.”
Stephen’s face turned bright crimson as the revelation sunk in.
David chuckled. “Why, if I didn’t know better, I’d think I could see smoke comin’ out of your ears.”
Stephen flew into a rage. He quickly stepped across the room and slapped David across the face, almost knocking him out of bed.
“Stop it,” Anna screamed. “He’s ill, Stephen!”
She started toward her husband, but Stephen spun around. He shoved her away, and sent her sprawling to the floor.
“You son-of-a-bitch!” David sprang from the bed and lunged at him.
Stephen hurled his fist into his attacker’s cheekbone. David crashed to the floor, hitting his forehead on the corner of the dressing table as he fell. Stephen kicked him hard in the stomach and caused him to buckle with pain.
“How could you?” Anna wailed.
She crawled toward her husband, who moaned in anguish. Blood streamed down his face from the gash in his forehead.
Harshly grabbing hold of her arm, Stephen pulled her up. He flung her over his shoulder like she was a sack of barley.
“Stephen,” she shrieked. “What are you doing?”
“You’re coming with me,” he gruffly said. “I’m going to teach you a lesson.”
Whirling toward the doorway, he saw Maggie, who stood frozen with terror. He pushed her out of the way.
“And when I’m done with you, I’ll send a lynch mob for him. The war isn’t that far from over.”
He carried her downstairs while she futilely thrashed and screamed.
David groaned, brought himself to his feet, and wiped the blood from his eyes with the back of his hand. He glanced at Maggie, who stared at him, her eyes bulging like a scared rabbit’s and her face white with fright. His head spun. He felt dizzy, unable to think clearly. Staggering over to the dresser, he noticed the doll Abigail had left there, so he pulled the pin out and stabbed it zealously several times. He remembered what Jemie had told him, that he needed some of Stephen’s hair for it to be effective. In a fit of rage, he threw the pin down, tore the doll in half, and hurled the pieces at the door. It was then that he realized what he had to do. He turned around toward the armoire. Maggie stood in front of it, holding his pistol in her hands, a shocked look of horror still on her face. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
He wiped the blood away again, moaned, and put his hand to his stomach. His head throbbed so intensely it felt like it would explode. The ringing in his left ear became deafening.
“What are you doin’?” he cried out in astonishment.
“I can’t let you do it.” She shook her head. “I just can’t.”
They heard Anna scream outside. David staggered to the window and saw Stephen set her down. He slapped her and kept shouting at her.
Reeling back around to face Maggie, David glared at her. “You have to!” he insisted.
He looked back out into the barnyard and saw Stephen try to force Anna onto his horse. Renegade stared at them from behind the fence. Without hesitation, David put his thumb and forefinger into his mouth and whistled.
Renegade’s ears pricked. He looked up at the bedroom window. The stallion bolted, cantered in a circle around the pasture, and gracefully flew over the fence. At a full gallop, he ran toward Stephen, who drew his pistol. Renegade came too quickly for him to take a shot. Stephen’s horse spooked with fright and yanked the reins from his grasp. Both horses thundered around the side of the house.
“Damn it!” Stephen screamed.
He shoved Anna so hard she flew against the fence and collapsed in a heap. Pointing his pistol at the window, he fired.
David ducked. The bullet ricocheted off the window frame and sent splinters of wood spraying.
“Get down!” he ordered Maggie, who immediately dropped to her knees. Another shot cracked against the side of the house.
David wiped the blood from his eyes. The pain in his stomach was horribly excruciating. He grimaced, looked at Maggie, and panted several breaths. “You have to give me that gun,” he groaned.
Anna screamed from the yard. David looked out to see Stephen hit her again. He gazed back at Maggie, who quivered and sobbed with fear like a helpless animal.
David drew a deep breath in an effort to stay calm and conscious at the same time. He glared at her intensely, his dark brown eyes piercing. “Maggie,” he said slowly, deliberately. “Give me the gun.”
She covered her mouth with one hand. Gradually, she held his pistol out to him with the other.
He quickly stepped toward her and plucked it from her outstretched palm, but nearly lost his balance as he did so. Returning to the window, he checked the gun to make sure it was still loaded. Carefully, he drew a bead on his target. He hesitated, waiting for his dizziness to subside. A voice outside startled him. He squinted to see Bill dashing through the field toward the house, hollering at the top of his lungs. Stephen whirled around to face him. Anna scurried away from her attacker and ran toward the house. Stephen raised his pistol, taking aim. The opportunity finally presented itself. David fired. His Colt .44 popped, echoing in his ears. Maggie shrieked. He vaguely heard Anna scream his name from downstairs. His head spun wildly, and his legs grew weak. He fell to the floor. The pain was overwhelming. A swirling fog rushed over him, engulfing him in darkness.
If this was a civil war, I hope never to fight in an uncivil one!
—Confederate Major Charles H. Smith, Georgia
(Aka “Bill Arp,” weekly newspaper columnist)