by Naomi Finley
“I am as well as one can expect,” the sergeant said in an emotionless tone. “As soon as I’m healed, I will return to my regiment.”
“Yes, and we hope that Livingston will bring you the peace you need to recover.” I doubted he’d return to the battlefield anytime soon, but hopefully, the army would find a use for him. The sooner he left, the better for us all.
“I’m sure you’ll be delighted to see the last of me.” He stood eyeing me with a direct gaze.
Inside I squirmed under his imposing regard, but I fought to stay composed on the surface. “Why do you say that?”
“Because I see the way you look at me. As though I’m the enemy.”
I swallowed hard. Had I been that transparent? I scrambled to come up with something that would dismiss that idea. “You misread my tension. I worry about the length of this war and if we’ll have enough supplies and food to provide for ourselves and the soldiers we take in.”
“The army will see that you have all you need while you care for our men,” he said gruffly.
But at what expense? At the hardship of other plantations and farmers. People talked about the army showing up and leaving them with only the basics to get by. What if the military no longer required Livingston to house their men? Would we, too, suffer the fate of other South Carolinians?
He walked from the room, and I stood staring after him until Whitney gave the garland a tug.
As we finished decorating the library, I regarded the sergeant as he stood on the back veranda, smoking the pipe protruding below his precisely trimmed mustache. I wanted to see him gone from Livingston as soon as possible.
LATE ONE DECEMBER EVENING, AFTER Whitney and Pippa had retired to their chambers, I gathered my shawl and exited through the back door. The harmony of the night critters melded with the fluid sound of the river current. I strolled across the work yard and past a small group of quarter folks sitting around a small open fire. Our numbers grew fewer, but the burden of providing for those who remained never eased.
“Evening, Missus.” Parker eyed me across the fire. Other folks nodded and offered greetings.
“Evening,” I said with a smile.
I’d ascended the knoll between the house and the river when I heard shuffling footsteps behind me. I swung around and held the lantern high. “Who goes there?”
“Et’s jus’ me, Missus,” a male voice replied.
“Parker!” I exclaimed in disapproval. I placed a hand to my chest to quell my pounding heart. “You scared me half to death. These are trying times, and one can never be too certain of who lurks in the woods.”
“I’m sorry, but I bin hoping to talk to you on a matter.”
I sensed the reason he had sought me out. Since Kimie had left for Charleston to help at the wayside hospital, he had fallen into a state of wistfulness. His elongated face and slumped shoulders had gathered Whitney’s attention.
One day as he strolled by us in the work yard, she’d leaned in and whispered, “Poor soul can’t think straight with the condition of his heart.” She’d shaken her head and favored him with a sad smile. “And to think some time back, I would have mocked such a display of lovestruck weakness.”
I’d smiled with amusement at the reformed woman who openly declared her love and pining for Knox. If Whitney Tucker could change her outlook on life, it gave me hope for our nation.
I waited until Parker caught up. He leaned his weight on his walking stick before lifting agony-filled eyes to me.
“Well, don’t hesitate, tell me what has you chasing after me.”
“I was wondering ef de next time Jones or you head in to Charleston, ef I can go wid you.”
“You’re hoping to talk to Kimie?”
“Yessum.”
“You know the dangers involved. Especially now.”
“I knowed et. But I reckon ef I can git one look at her, dis here ache in my soul would go away.”
For the time being, I thought. Compassion pulled at me. I considered the measures I’d take to have a mere moment with Bowden. “You know we rarely venture into Charleston anymore. What supplies we can gather that the army hasn’t already claimed, Jones gets from Secessionville.”
“Please, Missus. I must see her.” His eyes pleaded for my reconsideration.
He had claimed a place in my heart since my father had brought him and his father, Owen, to Livingston. “I’m sorry, Parker. I wish I could help, but I can’t.”
“Yessum.” His shoulders slumped as though I had knocked hope right out of him.
Desiring to be far removed from all responsibility, I continued walking. To my surprise, he fell into step beside me. I welcomed his company, and for a while, we walked in silence along the river’s edge, relishing the calm and peacefulness of the night. I contemplated his request and wrestled with how I could make it possible before brushing off the reckless idea. I gave him a sideways glance. “You must believe me, if I could risk going in to Charleston, I would take you with me.”
“I know,” he said.
“Perhaps Kimie will come for a visit…” My words faded when I heard a moan. I froze. “What was that?”
He swung to face me with confusion in his eyes. “What?”
“I thought I heard something.” I strained to hear above the rushing of the river’s current. Hearing nothing, I shrugged. “Perhaps it was an animal.”
I took another step, and the moan came again, louder and more pronounced. “There, did you hear that?”
Parker gawked at me and nodded. “Sho’ did. Et sound lak et coming from over dere.” He pointed at some underbrush on the riverbank.
“Let’s take a look.” I stepped by him to go and investigate but he gripped my arm.
“You got to be careful, Missus,” he whispered. “You don’t know who or what be out dere.”
“You’re right, but I have your protection.” I motioned for him to follow.
He snorted and knocked his leg with the walking stick. “Wid dis busted leg?”
“Come.” I moved toward the location of the moan. Holding the lantern high, I squinted into the darkness. Grateful for the aid of the full moon, I advanced. When the moan came again I halted, causing Parker to run into me.
He clutched me around the middle to keep us from going down, then swiftly released me, a look of alarm on his face. “Sorry, Missus.”
I dismissed him with a wave. “Don’t be silly. You rescued the both of us.”
As the noise pierced the night again, I clutched his arm, and we crept forward. My heart pounded in my ears, yet every sound around me seemed magnified. Each terrifying outcome I could think of rushed through my head. What if it was a rabid animal? Or Reuben lying in wait? Everything in me screamed to turn and run, but my feet pressed on.
As we drew closer, I recognized the noise as human. Seeing movement, I craned my neck and saw a man in uniform sprawled on the ground.
Parker inhaled sharply. “Lard help us all. Dat dere a soldier.”
I noted the Federal uniform and moved in to get a better look.
“Careful, Missus.” Panic strummed in Parker’s voice.
The soldier lay with his face turned away. He never stirred at the sound of our voices. I stuck out my foot and jostled him, but he remained motionless. Careful not to get too close, I passed the lantern over him to inspect for injuries, pausing at his chest, where a dark stain and a bullet hole marred his coat.
“I wonder what he is doing out this far.” I knelt beside the man.
“Willow…” the man moaned.
Startled at the sound of my name, I held the lantern to his face and pulled back the shadowing branch. “God in heaven. It’s Kip.” I set the lantern on the ground and bent forward. “Kip, can you hear me?”
No response came. I brushed his cheeks and forehead. “He’s delirious with fever. We have to get him to the house.”
“But, you can’t!” Parker exclaimed before he caught himself and lowered his voice. “Have you forgotten ’bout
dem Confederates you keeping up at de big house? Ef you walk up dere wid Mister Kip, dey will kill him for sho’.”
I rocked back on my heels and brushed a hand over my forehead. “You’re right. Let me think.” After a moment, I said, “Go fetch Jones, and then ask Mrs. Tucker to bring a change of clothing.” I held out the lantern for him to take.
“Straightaway.” Without delay, he wobbled off.
After he left, I sat on the ground and fumbled for Kip’s hand. “Everything will be all right. I will see to it.” Tears sprang to my eyes as concern over Kip’s condition took hold.
I envisioned Bowden and Ben wounded and needing aid. If a Northerner found them, would they show them kindness, or would— “No, you mustn’t think that way. You’ll only drive yourself mad.” I shook my head to dislodge the worry and considered what I would do with Kipling.
After what seemed like hours had passed, I braced at racing footsteps.
“Jones, that you?” I pulled closer to Kipling, seeking to shield him from whoever approached.
The lantern shone on the ground in front of me, and I released the breath I’d been holding when Jones came into view. He ran the lantern over Kip. “It’s him, all right,” he said. “Kind of skinny compared to what I recollect.”
I regarded Kip’s gaunt face. “There’s no telling how long he’s been like this, or how he ended up here.”
“Maybe he fought at the battle at Point Royal.”
“But that was weeks ago.”
“I reckon so.” Jones holstered a hand on his narrow hip.
“We need to get him where we can assess his injuries.”
“I don’t like this. You’re asking for trouble.” His eyes narrowed.
“What do you expect me to do, just leave him here?” I snapped.
He never answered, just stood scratching at the days-old gray scuff shadowing his chin. After years of observing this complex man, I figured he was running through scenarios.
“I’m going to need your help.” He moved to stand at Kip’s head. I scrambled to help. “Put his arm around your shoulder, and we’ll haul him up.”
I did as instructed, and Jones looked across at me. “You got him?”
“Yes.”
“All right, up!” he said, and grunted as he bore the bulk of Kip’s weight.
Kip let out a wail, never opening his eyes, and again muttered my name.
“It’s a mighty good thing we found him and not someone else,” Jones said between heaving breaths as we half dragged Kip back toward the plantation. “Him going around calling your name is the last thing we need. People around here would nail you to the cross, labeling you as a traitor as sure as nothing.”
I recognized the truth in his words.
We had only made it a short distance before Whitney and Parker came over the knoll and dashed down to the river bank. Whitney raced ahead, with Parker struggling to keep up.
“How bad is he?” Whitney’s brow pleated as she tried to assess him in the dark.
“We won’t be able to tell until we get him inside,” I said. “Let’s lay him down. Jones, you and Parker get him into the fresh change of clothes.”
Released of the burden of Kip’s weight, I stepped away to allow the men to do their work.
Whitney and I stood with our backs turned and looked out over the river. “I don’t like this,” she said. I glanced at her, but she kept her eyes on the river. “Not only do we have to worry about being prey to any Federal armies passing through, but if they show up here, the men inside will surely die. Federals seizing control of Port Royal Sound is too close for my liking.”
I tried to still the trembling overtaking my body.
“And now, with Kipling here, the risk becomes that much greater.”
“Would you have me leave him to die?” I turned to her.
“Of course not. Don’t make me out as the villain. He’s my friend too.”
“I don’t like harboring a Federal any more than you. But, at the start of this, we all agreed we wouldn’t turn anyone in need away. And it’s Kip, for God’s sake.” I thrust a hand in the air.
“Calm yourself,” she said. “I’m just worried, is all.” She glanced over her shoulder before stiffening and quickly turning back.
“We’ll hide him in the barn for the night, and in the morning we will figure out what to do.”
“What if someone reports us?” she said.
“Are you referring to the quarter folks?” I thought of Jane and her views on blacks, which had seemed hypocritical and disingenuous.
“This war has proven to displace loyalty.”
I squeezed her hand tighter and gave it a gentle tug. “Together, we have proven to be an unstoppable team. We will get through this.”
“All right, let’s hurry,” Jones grumbled.
Whitney stepped up to help. “No.” I grabbed her arm. “My dress is already stained with his blood. Go fetch Big John and tell him to meet us in the barn.”
She nodded and dashed off into the shadows of the night.
“Parker.” I swerved to face him. “Gather his bloodied clothes and wash them in the river.”
Jones’s unruly brows narrowed. “You should burn them.”
“They may come in handy,” I said.
“Yes, Missus, I do as you ask,” Parker said.
My nerves thrummed as I looked at Jones. “Let’s get him out of sight.”
Big John’s large frame darkened the threshold, and his gaze fell on Kipling lying on the fresh straw, dressed in Bowden’s clothing. He dashed past me, and behind him, Mammy waddled in wearing a deep scowl, her brow glistening with beads of sweat. She looked over her shoulder for prying eyes before placing me in her crosshairs.
“Angel gal,” she said in a hushed tone, “what ya done gone and got yourself into now? Have you forgotten ’bout dem soldier boys up in de big house?” She marched forward, and Jones hurried to shut the door behind her.
“What are you doing here?” I said. “Who’s watching over things at the house?”
“Missus Hendricks and now Missus Tucker.” She looked past me. “Lard sakes, et is Mr. Kipling.” She looked down at Big John as he and Jones removed Kipling’s shirt.
“The bullet is still in him,” Jones said. “Just missed his heart.”
Kip stirred, and his hand thrashed at the ground.
“He ain’t safe here.” Mammy glanced at the door. “Probably in more danger dan he was out dere on his own.”
“Do you think you can get the bullet out?” I wrung my hands.
“I do my bes’, Missus,” Big John said. “Rita, you hold dat lantern over here.”
Mammy did as instructed.
I chewed the inside of my lip raw as I stood helplessly by.
“I sho’ glad you here, Big John,” Mammy said. “Wid Masa Bowden and Masa Ben away, we would’ve had no choice but to call on Crazy Eyed Henry…” Her words drifted as she recalled Henry was no longer with us. “May God rest his soul.”
Henry had lost his life in the attack on Livingston. An image flashed of his lifeless body, pitchfork in hand, lying amongst the dead, and a knot formed in my gut. Such images awoke me at night, and I would sit upright, my heart hammering. I wished for it all to be a nightmare, but I’d lay back and stare at the ceiling, knowing it was reality. I questioned what purpose God had in allowing them to die. Why did He let the pain and horrors happening around the world occur? When He had the power to stop wars, why didn’t He? The struggle to understand never ceased.
Mammy prattled on. “Henry and me never did git on dat well.”
I recalled the incident with Mammy’s tooth some years back and how Mary Grace and I had enlisted Henry to help us. The memory of Mammy circling her chamber, causing a fuss and swatting at him, brought a smile.
Big John worked on retrieving the bullet, and after what seemed like forever he let out a grunt and held up the bloodied ball.
“Lard be praised.” Mammy’s eyes gleamed, and she l
ooked from Big John to me.
My heart soared, and I drew her into an embrace.
She patted my back before pushing away. “’Nuf of dat. What ef dem soldiers seed you acting lak dat?”
“Well, they aren’t here.” I squeezed her tighter before releasing her and sinking to my knees beside Kipling. “I will stay with him tonight.” I whisked back the lock of sweat-drenched hair shielding Kip’s left eye.
“But what ’bout de sergeant? He sho’ to know you missing. I don’t lak dat man one bit. De sooner he gone, de better,” Mammy said.
“I believe we all will be happy to see the last of him, but until then we must endure.” I studied Big John’s skilled hand as he applied the last stitch to Kipling’s wound. “Do you think he will make it?”
“Only time will tell, Missus. He lost a lot of blood. He in Orisha’s hands now.” Big John pulled to his feet.
He held fast to his home country and the Yoruba people’s beliefs, while Mammy, born and raised in the South, upheld the Christian faith. A matter that sometimes caused disputes between the two, but now she remained silent.
“Ef he pulls through, we feed him real good. Ain’t nothing but flesh and bones.” Mammy handed me the lantern before covering Kip with a blanket.
“He will survive,” I said with determination, regarding his gauntness and his pale flesh.
“De good Lard be de decider of dat,” Mammy said matter-of-factly. She turned her inspection on me. “You need to git out of dem clothes. I git Mrs. Tucker to bring you a blanket and clothes.”
Jones had them slip out the side door before returning to extinguish the lanterns, except for the one he hung on a hook over the stall. “It will get a bit chilly in here tonight,” he said.
“I’ll make do.”
“Best you seat yourself next to him on that clean straw. Body heat will do you both some good.” He patted his hand on the stall door, took one last look at Kip, then turned and exited through the side door.
Whitney arrived with blankets and fresh clothing. I changed, and she gathered my clothes and left.
I positioned myself next to Kipling, my back against the wall. Drawing my knees to my chest, I pulled the blankets over us and rested my head back. Through a gap in the rafters, I peered at the night sky and whispered a prayer: “Please, let him live…and return my husband home safely.”