She hugged the pillow close to her breast. If only she had a spy glass. How she longed to go back to the cabin and gather a few things, but her hilltop view also made her realize how difficult it would be for her to climb back up carrying anything but the babe already cradled in her womb.
What would she do all day? If only he’d told her his plan. There were things a woman needed, perhaps not to survive, yet to live. Things like combs for her hair, the sugar bowl with the gold rim, and the rag rug she’d made with her old dresses and Lafe’s old shirts. Had she known he was going to make her stay, she would have gathered her knitting.
At least he’d bundled the flannel she’d purchased to make diapers and shifts for the babe. She’d found it while going through the box of items he’d sneaked out of the cabin. But he’d not thought of her knitting, or her Bible.
Oh, Lafe, where are you? His loving had been urgent but gentle last night. She should have sensed he’d be leaving. She wrapped her arms tighter around his pillow. A sudden sense of dread, a presence she couldn’t explain, filled her breast and instinct told her to go back to her cave. Get out of the open. Go back into the cleft of the rocks. She stood and sidled back into her hiding place. To call it a living space took more imagination that she could muster. It was more like a tomb.
A tomb? She leaned against the rock wall. All this time and she’d not given one thought to praying. But now, thinking of this cave as a burial place, caused her to pause. They put Jesus in a hole like this. All because he was willing to die for the likes of her. Lafe had provided this place of safety because he was willing to die. She supposed a preacher would argue the comparison. But it helped. Oh, how it helped.
Charlotte straightened her shoulders. Jesus died for her, and Lafe was willing to do the same. How could she do less than choose to live for them?
I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.
Her Bible. She could live without the combs and the sugar bowl or the rag rug. But she did want her Bible. Pressed into her hands as a parting gift from the one woman she could remember being kind to her, it was her most prized possession.
Somehow, she’d find a way to get it.
CHAPTER 3
S itting atop his horse, hidden among the still lush timber of the Missouri hillside, Union Sergeant Robert Stallings scanned the ground below with his spy glass. Only moments ago he’d spotted a lone figure. A young woman with an expanded belly, dressed only in a nightshift. The white gown stood out like a flower in a desert. He’d cleaned the glass and looked again, but now he couldn’t find her.
Why would a woman be out here alone? The only reasonable explanation was that she was in hiding. Placed there, perhaps by a father or husband, though by her obvious pregnancy, a husband would be the more reasonable supposition. She’d be fair game if others in his company spied her. He’d better draw attention away from the area.
“Saddle up, men. Time to move out. You’ve likely had your rest for the day.” Robert lowered his field glasses, praying the men would be too busy to question his observation. He’d seen action in this terrible conflict that pitted brother against brother. Truth was, he’d rather fight his own brother than carry out General Ewing’s latest order.
Fitted with notices to be presented to every home he found in Cass County, his job was to make sure the orders were carried out. He detested the assignment. He pulled the missive from his pocket and snapped his wrist to open it. Had he missed something? Was there some way to avoid carrying out such cruelty?
General Orders No. 11
Headquarters District of the Border
Kansas City, August 25, 1863
1. All persons living in Jackson, Cass, and Bates counties, Missouri, and in that part of Vernon included in this district, except those living within one mile of the limits of Independence, Hickman’s Mills, Pleasant Hill, and Harrisonville, and except those in that part of Kaw Township, north of Brush Creek and west of Big Blue, are hereby ordered to remove from their present places of residence within fifteen days from the date whereof…
He clenched his jaw and took a deep breath to quell the anger. There was more. Much more. No matter how many times he read it, he couldn’t find a loophole. They were to confiscate anything of value left behind and burn what they didn’t take. Revulsion filled him. It was one thing to fight against soldiers like himself, men who readily joined their respective armies believing in the cause and anticipating a short war with each side sure theirs would be the victor. But this order put a new face to the so-called enemy, targeting men too old or infirmed to fight as well as women and children. It wasn’t right, and he swallowed against the bile that seemed permanently lodged in his throat.
“Saddled, sir. You want us to go ahead of you?” Robert chose not to collide with the snide address from the pimply faced youngster who seemed determined to push against authority. “That would be the idea, Private.”
“A notice on every post or door, right? And what if they argue? Do we shoot ’em?” Private Garvey pulled his gun.
Robert rankled at the sneer on the younger man’s face. Some thought they weren’t soldiers unless they could shoot or kill. This brash youngster was far too eager to do both.
“Holster it, Garvey. Listen up, men. Our job is to give them the notice. You shoot without provocation and you better have the next shot aimed at me. I’ll tell you right now, there’s isn’t a one of you who can outdraw or outshoot me, so don’t even consider it. You understand, Garvey?”
A salute of sorts accompanied Garvey’s nod. For now, Robert would let it pass. But he’d address it in private at the first opportunity.
“Carry on, then. I’ll stay here on top and keep lookout for awhile but will follow shortly. Keep your eyes peeled for rebels, too, but we’re not to engage unless threatened. One lone man doesn’t constitute a threat.”
He waited for his men to get far enough down the hillside they wouldn’t be as likely to double back, then looked through his field glass again where he’d seen the glimpse of white near an outcropping of rocks. He fixed the position in his mind, using the jagged rocks as a focal point. He’d have to take a chance that somewhere in the nooks and crevices of the hillside, she’d found a place of refuge.
Despite his caution, there was enough dry underbrush to crackle with the weight of the horse. Besides that, the birds had stopped singing. If this lady knew anything about the world around her, she’d know someone—or something—was in the vicinity and would thus likely draw deeper into her place of hiding. He didn’t have much time or his men would wonder at his lagging behind.
Choosing stealth over time, he tied his horse to a nearby bush and proceeded on foot. Perhaps he could cushion his footsteps enough. He’d folded a notice and stuck it in his pocket in the chance he’d find her, or at least locate her hiding place. She might not believe him, but perhaps she’d read the notice and realize he had no intention of harm. He didn’t want to frighten her. In fact, he only intended to warn her to stay hidden. If she were truly alone, and with her obvious condition, her safety was foremost in his mind.
His downward pursuit would have been in vain had he not spied a crude form of a broom lying on a deadfall trunk. Had it been on the ground, he’d have dismissed it as part of the undergrowth. But this seemed a deliberate fashion of a tool, and he could only surmise it had been forgotten by the lady he’d observed earlier.
He retrieved the broom and, with some scouting, finally found a tall, narrow opening behind a large rock. He squeeze through and entered a cave. Close inspection revealed small footprints in the dust although the room itself was quite large and empty. Instinct cautioned him not to go any deeper into the cave. After all, he wasn’t there to subdue her, but rather to assure her he meant no harm and would do all he could to prevent any intrusion. He took the notice and a pencil from his pocket and scribbled a quick note, then picked a stone from the floor of the cave to weigh down the flyer. He’d leave it. She’d surely find it.
H
e advanced only far enough to be able to wipe out any of her footsteps, then backed out of the cave, brandishing the broom to clear his as well. He left the broom leaning against the entrance in hopes she’d see it as another sign he meant no harm. By his watch, he was a good fifteen minutes behind his men. Now, if only he could proceed without questions from Garvey.
Charlotte chided herself for forgetting the broom. How could she be so careless? Would she ever get used to this new way of living—like an animal always on alert to danger?
She turned to retrace her steps to retrieve it, but caution stopped her. Not a noise, but a presence she couldn’t explain—like when she could feel Lafe’s breath even though he wasn’t there. Fear constricted her chest, and her legs trembled. This couldn’t be, could it? Had someone found her? The first day Lafe was gone?
She lost track of how long she stood, barely breathing. Ten minutes? Fifteen? Long enough for the babe nestled in her womb to let her know he was there, and for awhile she allowed herself to enjoy its antics as it moved her tummy beneath her thin nightdress. It was safe now, this wee one, but what would happen when it decided to make its entrance into this cruel world?
With her hand over her mouth to mu ffle any sound, she took a deep breath. She’d learned that tactic as a child, attempting to escape from abusive overseers masquerading as loving caregivers. It didn’t always work, but it never failed to give her new resolve—the tenacity to face whatever the future held. But as a child, she had only herself to protect, by any means she found necessary. It was different now, what with the babe.
At last she felt safe enough to poke her head around the rocks that protected her. A stone-weighted paper was present, and her forgotten broom leaned just inside the entrance. With steps slow and tentative, she made her way to the paper. Once retrieved, she opened it against her cotton gown to diminish the crackle, then leaned against the rock wall and angled the paper to the shaft of light streaming from the opening.
According to the paper, there was a new order—number eleven, the simple title making it sound impersonal. She shoved her knuckles against her mouth to stifle the scream that fought its way through her whole being. They would confiscate her property? They would destroy anything left behind? All she and Lafe had worked so hard to achieve—their crops, their animals, and all their worldly goods still in the cabin—would be lost?
She couldn’t let it happen. The notice said they had fifteen days from the date of issuance. She scanned the paper again. The issue date was August twentyfive. She ticked the days off on her fingers, but it was no use. She couldn’t even remember what day of the week it was. But no matter—she couldn’t wait in a hole in the side of a hill while every vestige of their sweat and tears were threatened. Lafe wouldn’t want her to. He said bad things were going to happen, but he didn’t know about this. He wouldn’t have left had he known. He’d have stayed and fought against the forces of evil men who dared take away all they called their own.
She reread it, and only then noticed a note at the bottom. Take no chances. Stay hidden. Don’t forget broom.
This wasn’t from Lafe. It wasn’t his handwriting. But why would he send someone to warn her when he was so determined to keep her whereabouts hidden? A terrible, crushing weight bent her shoulders, and she slid down the rock wall to a sitting position. She would not break. She’d known fear before, and she’d been forsaken many times over. She didn’t break then, and she wouldn’t break now. “Be strong and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them: for the LORD thy God, he it is that doth go with thee; he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee.”
Lafe had laughed at her when she quoted from the Bible. He claimed he couldn’t trust what he couldn’t see. She’d tried—oh, how she tried—to convince him he couldn’t depend on his own strength or his own knowledge. Despite his lack of faith, he always loved her. Just as she loved him.
The memory of his love made her more determined. She’d survive. If need be, she’d have the babe alone. But she wouldn’t, she couldn’t, give up hope Lafe would return soon.
CHAPTER 4
Robert rode into the clearing in the midst of bedlam. Chickens, held by their feet, squawked and beat their wings against their captors. One large ewe bleated in protest and braced its legs against the drag of the rope around its neck, and a sow waddled and grunted as it was being driven by one of his men brandishing a stick. A pile of household goods grew as items were tossed from the open door of the cabin. Beside the mound of confiscated goods stood Garvey, methodically tearing pages from a Bible and shoving them under the bottom items.
Driven by anger and disgust, Robert drew his sidearm and shot three times into the air. The scene before him came to a momentary halt, but the heat of anger surging through every fiber of his being didn’t cool. “What in thunder is going on here?”
Private Garvey lifted his head slowly and gave a one-sided grin. “Obvious, ain’t it, Sarge? Carryin’ out orders, like ya said.”
“No, Private, you are not carrying out orders. The orders specifically state these people are to be given fifteen days from the date of issuance to vacate their property. Until then, you and every last man-jack of you involved in this fiasco can be arrested for insubordination.” His hand holding the gun shook, not from fear but rather from rage. He hated this war and what it was doing to people. Where was the decency?
Garvey straightened and jabbed the air with the Bible. “Yeah? Well, look around, Stallings. Ain’t nobody in sight. I’ll swear on this supposed holy book I’m holdin’ that some dirty reb is hidin’ in the timber, probably got his ugly wench with him. Breakfast still on the table, bacon cold in the fryin’ pan. Somebody knowed we was comin’ and done warned their lowdown hides.”
“Hey! Lookee what we found.” A shout from the small barn at the edge of the clearing took Robert’s attention away from the sneering private. He hipped around in his saddle in time to see two soldiers stride toward the pile of belongings carrying a cradle.
A wad of spittle from Garvey landed in the dirt beside Stalling’s horse. “Like I was tellin’ ya…somewhere out in that timber there’s a reb and his wench. Don’t reckon we can stop ’em from breedin’, but sure as shootin’ we can keep ’em from droppin’ more of their kind in this county. Fire it up, men!”
The image of the pregnant woman flashed across Robert’s mind, and instinct told him this was her cabin. Her cradle. Her Bible. All her earthy goods. He stood in his stirrups, his gun still drawn. “Put a match to that pile and you get a bullet. You understand?”
Garvey didn’t move, but the two with the cradle set it in the dirt where they stood.
Robert breathed a deep sigh of relief. He didn’t doubt the loyalty of his men. Except for the firebrand private, and that one had wrestled against orders from day one. Apparently Garvey decided today was the day to exert his rebellion. “Every last one of you, drop what you have in your hands, mount up, and get on down the road. Now!”
“I’m sayin’ torch it.” Garvey widened his stance and put one hand on his sidearm. “What’re you doin’, Stallings? Ewing ain’t gonna be happy when he finds out you ordered us away from here. Not when we didn’t follow his orders.”
“My orders, Garvey. You follow my orders, and I’m telling you and every soldier in this company one more time—drop what you have in your hands, mount up, and get moving.” He fixed his gaze on Garvey. “Private, I’m warning you. One more display like this and I’ll put you afoot. You can be sure Ewing will hear of this.”
Garvey drew his gun and pointed to the soldier nearest the mound of goods. “Who ya gonna listen to? Stallings or me? We both got our guns out, but mine is on you.”
Robert nudged his horse closer to Garvey. “And mine is aimed at you.”
Garvey swiveled and pointed his gun at Robert’s chest, his face contorting. “I been wantin’ to do this for a long time, Stallings.”
Shots rang out, and something hot seared into Robert’s left shoulder. He pulled his trigger
one more time as he tumbled backwards from his mount and hit the ground. He tried to sit up, but pain shot through him like shards of glass, and he bit his lip to quell the moan.
“Lookee here, men. If anybody asks, this one was shot by a dirty reb.”
Though he could barely focus, Robert made out Private Garvey’s face bending close to his.
“This is what happens when ya ain’t got the guts to do what them orders said we was to do. Here.” Something heavy hit his stomach. “You need this worser’n me. Course, it ain’t all together no more. Had to use some of it to start the blaze. I hear that there Holy Bible says somethin’ ’bout the fires of hell. Well, you can bet those shiny boots of yours them reb-lovin’ people around here is gonna have them a little taste of that place once we get to followin’ orders. Best be sayin’ your prayers, Stallings. I’d shoot ya again but no need to waste another bullet. You’re gonna die anyway.”
The ground shook with the pounding of horses’ hooves as his company of men departed. He waited until he could no longer hear them, then he allowed himself to succumb to the pain while a veil of darkness obscured his sight.
Charlotte’s heart thrummed. She’d heard shots—echoes, really—but she’d been in the hills long enough to know gunfire when she heard it. Below her was all she had. Her home, her belongings, and…and Lafe. She sank to her knees. Did Lafe fire the shots? There were too many to be only a warning. She shut her eyes against the other possibility. Was Lafe the target?
Destination: Romance: Five Inspirational Love Stories Spanning the Globe Page 20