The Discovered

by Tracy Winegar

  “I suppose it isn’t the kind of thing you get a thrill over, but I am very pleased.”

  “No, that’s good news.”

  “It is silly, but it means a lot to me.”

  “I’m thinking we should head for Pennsylvania. Get as far away from here as we can.”

  “I have something for you,” I said. I reached into my haversack and pulled out an orange, tossing it to him. He quickly caught it. “Merry Christmas.”

  He grinned at me. “Haven’t seen one of these in a very long while.” He began to peel it. “Here, we will share it.” He separated a wedge and handed it to me.

  “Thank you,” I said, taking a bite and sucking the juice from it.

  “And I have a gift for you as well.”

  I perked up, smiling expectantly, eager to see what he’d gotten me. “What is it?” I asked.

  “News.”

  I was confused. “News?”

  “Yes. A letter from home.”

  “What is it?”

  “When I thought to ask for your hand, I wrote my father to make arrangements on my behalf. I sent some money to him and asked him to put it down on a little farm there in Richfield,” he said.

  “You did?” I was surprised. He’d mentioned before he was intent upon getting a place of his own long ago, before he knew the truth about me. But he hadn’t spoken of it since.

  “It isn’t much,” he said. “Eighty acres. Not far from town. I took all I’ve been saving and my father threw in a small share. He says it was owed to me for working at the mill for him. Well, anyway, it was enough. Do you remember the old Derringer place?”

  “No,” I answered.

  “Sure you do,” he insisted. “The little brick house with the sagging porch and shudders. It’s going to need a good coat of paint. Widow Derringer lived there up to five or so years ago. It’s been empty since she died, with nobody to claim it. It was probably on your way home from school.”

  “The one with the great oak that was struck by lightning?”

  “The very one. Anyhow, the house will need work and the barn will probably have to be torn down and rebuilt, it’s pretty shabby, but my father said he could get it for a good price, it’s been sitting empty for so long, and it will be a fine place to start out with, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, Sam,” I agreed enthusiastically. “We can put our own touch to it, and make what we want of it.”

  “Every time I passed the place, the house looked sad. And I always thought a house like that needed a family, needed some hard work and a family to make it look cheerful again. Before I signed up, I would think maybe it would be mine someday, and I would buy it and move in and fix it up, but then I put it out of mind when I decided to enlist. You aren’t displeased I went ahead and put money down on it, are you?”

  “Not at all. I’m just very surprised. I didn’t know you were thinking of it.”

  “You must have a home to go back to,” he reasoned. “A place of your own you can be comfortable in.”

  “You mean a place of our own,” I corrected.

  “That’s what I meant. A place of our own…”

  “Because I’m not leaving without you,” I said with a smile. But I didn’t feel the smile. I only did this to keep the mood light. I could feel him ready to bring up his old conversation about sending me home, and I wouldn’t have any of it. I stopped him before he got the chance to bring it up again.

  We spent the rest of the evening making plans and talking about what we would do with the house and the property. I told Sam I was not afraid of hard work. He told me he would be close enough to town that he could continue to work for his father at the mill, and in his spare time he could work on making repairs and improvements.

  In my head I could picture it all. I could see it. I realized I still hoped it could actually happen. That he and I would be there together some day, and the war would finally come to an end.

  “I’ve been thinking about re-enlisting,” he told me.

  I grew still. “Why?”

  “They have offered a three hundred dollar bonus and a thirty day furlough for anyone who will sign up for another three years.”

  “Three years?” I shuddered.

  “It would give me time to go home and help you fix the house up, and the money to do it with.”

  “It’s not worth it, Sam.”

  “Three hundred dollars is a lot of money,” he reasoned.

  “No one could put a price on your life and what it is worth to me,” I told him. “I think we should finish our time and get out if we can.”

  “It was just a thought…” he said.

  Chapter 30

  WHEN THE DAY FINALLY CAME for us to leave, Mr. Haney bid us have a safe trip and a pleasant rest. He was the only one to see us off, and the only one who knew what our intent was. We left camp with our secret between us, eager to get away from the place. Several miles down the road we paused in a grove of trees just outside of the depot. I took the clothing I acquired and went deeper into the woods where I would have some privacy, and there I changed from my blue uniform into my women’s wear while Sam kept a look out.

  It was cold out, so I dressed quickly. I combed my hair as best I might and put on the bonnet. With the bonnet on it was near impossible to tell I had no hair. I wished I had a mirror with which to take a look at myself, but I knew this would have to do.

  When I emerged once again, Sam looked me over long and hard, really studying me. I realized it was the first time he’d seen me dressed as a woman in a very long time, and now here I was wearing a gathered and flounced skirt with a dart-fitted bodice, full pagoda sleeves, an under sleeve peeking out white and lacy beneath, as close to delicate and refinement as I could be. I wasn’t sure if it was surprise or pleasure or concern I read in his expression. Then he smiled and nodded. He took my hand in his and without a word we headed for the train, where we undertook the remainder of our journey.

  Curiously I felt bashful, even as a stranger might, as we sat side by side on the train headed toward our nuptials. It was not a particularly long journey, but it felt like one. There were others on the train, mostly men in uniform. There were some wounded, most likely being shipped home or to a bigger and better hospital farther north. One of them recently had his arm amputated, the bandages upon his stump humanely hiding the mangled flesh, but still wet with the bright red blood seeping from his wound.

  It occurred to me each of these individuals had a story, had a life, just as Sam and I did. They had wives or sweethearts or mothers all eager to hear of their safety, worrying over their bodies and souls. Instead of bringing me comfort, it made me all the more agitated. Were they too looking at us and wondering what we were doing here, trying to guess at our purpose, at our secret errand? It seemed as if they might be watching us. Was it only my imagination?

  “Are they staring at us?” I whispered to Sam, my discomfort growing worse by the minute.

  “Possibly. Many of them haven’t seen a woman in a long time,” he said. “Or at least not one as handsome as you.”

  I laughed, knowing what he said was rubbish, but still liking the way it made me feel. He was able to ease my apprehension, making the stress ebb away from me. I was so wrapped up in hiding the fact that I was a girl that I’d learned to be always on guard. I realized for once, I didn’t have to be on guard. I could relax.

  “I nearly forgot I was a woman,” I admitted. I looked down at the skirts I wore and realized they weren’t pants. Maybe Sam was right. Even if I wasn’t the most beautiful girl in the world, I had to look pretty good to them, after not having seen a woman in many months.

  “I haven’t,” he said, with a grin.

  We pulled into our intended depot after having spent the night in travel. I rested my head against Sam’s shoulder but was unable to sleep at all. It was our plan to travel until we were upon friendly soil for our honeymoon and so we went as far north as we must in order to be out of Virginia. Some out of the way place, far
from the south and Washington too, where we wouldn’t be constantly reminded of the war. It was a small town just across the border in Pennsylvania, one of the towns we passed by on our march from Gettysburg, although forgettable because we’d never had the luxury of stopping there.

  There was a general flurry of activity as some got off and some got on to the train. This was our stop. My nerves surged within me. The thing I desired more than all else was soon to be mine. Sam politely held my hand as I descended the steps, which made me feel like a lady indeed.

  The town had but one hotel, two general stores, a church, two eateries, a few small businesses nestled between, with some very fine houses along the main street. I admired the place, glad to be somewhere other than camp.

  “Our first order of business, I think, should be securing a room. Drop our things off, and then we can look around and see what they have to offer,” Sam suggested.

  “That sounds fine.”

  “I reckon you must be tired,” he said.

  “I don’t feel at all tired,” I replied quickly. To which he chuckled. I was entirely too full of nervous energy to be tired.

  The only inn in the small town was once a grand and spacious home. The front desk was next to the fireplace where a fire burned warm and welcoming. A middle-aged gentleman who hobbled about on a crutch greeted us. I liked how confident Sam seemed to be as he walked right up to the desk. I wished I could act as self-assured as he did.

  “Hello, sir. We’ve come looking for a room. Do you have any available?”

  “Certainly I do,” said the man. “Several, as a matter of fact.” He took in Sam’s uniform and asked, “You seen some fighting?”

  “Yes, sir. Seen Antietam, Fredericksburg, and Rappahannock Station. Was at Gettysburg too, but never was in the fighting there.”

  “I never made it that long,” he said. He lifted the stump of what was left of his leg onto the desk before him. “Bull Run done me in. First piece of fighting I saw. And the last…”

  “I am sorry to hear it,” Sam answered. “I heard tell it was a terrible day indeed.”

  “You on furlough?” he asked.

  “I am. I come to meet my girl here and we plan on marrying,” Sam informed him.

  “You don’t say,” he retorted with a broad smile. He craned his neck to look past Sam, and openly inspected me. I felt foolish and dropped my gaze, unable to meet his. “And she’s a pretty little filly. Well, then we’ll have to see to it you get the best room in the house!”

  “It would be greatly appreciated, sir.”

  “Think nothing of it. If there’s anything at all we can do for you, why you just let us know. How many nights you staying?”

  “Three nights, if we might.”

  “We can do that. Awful quiet around here of late. Not too many customers. So three nights, two dollars a night. That’s gonna be six dollars.”

  Sam pulled his money purse from his haversack and put the money down upon the desk. “We have some things here that need laundered. Will that be a problem?”

  “No problem at all. You lay it out on the bed and I’ll send Rose or Della on up to collect it shortly.”

  “I will, thank you,” Sam said again.

  “I’m called Daniel Garth. If you need anything at all I’d be more than happy to help.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Garth.”

  The man gave Sam a pen and ink pot. “Think nothing of it. Think nothing of it. Just sign your name here,” he said pointing to an empty line. Then he got up with his crutch and went over to retrieve a key dangling from a ribbon on a hook. “The room to the top of the stairs, all the way down the hallway on the right,” he told us.

  “Are there any good places to eat around here?” Sam inquired as he took the key from Mr. Garth.

  “My daughter makes breakfast every morning, and you are welcome to it. Served between seven and eight o’clock each morning. Besides that we got two places here in town. Now there is Mrs. Norbert’s place, there across the road. She makes a good spread. Fine woman, too. And then there’s the Herring House Tavern, fancier and pricier. They have good eating, but now Mrs. Norbert’s just as good. She knows how to cook a meal, she does. Only she does it all herself, you see. So it takes a bit longer, but just as good nonetheless. Herring House is just fancier is all. Just fancier.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind,” Sam said. “One more thing, Mr. Garth, and then we will be out of your way. Might you know where we could find a Justice of the Peace?” Sam wondered.

  “No Justice of the Peace here. He joined up and we got no one to fill his place. We have a right nice preacher man who will fit the bill. Now you follow the road outside to the center of town and there be the church, plain as the nose on your face. He lives in the back there, and I am certain he will be more than glad to help you folks out.”

  “We appreciate your help, sir.” Sam accepted the key from him after he finished signing his name. I followed Sam into the hallway and up the staircase. We turned right and passed two doors before we came to the third and last door at the end. Sam opened the door with the key and held it open, waiting for me to walk through first.

  The room was very spacious and quite nice. To the right of the door was a small desk, stocked with pen and quill and paper in the event you might wish to write someone. On the adjacent wall was the bed, a four-poster with a thick feather mattress and a pile of warm quilts making it look like a giant pincushion. On the other side of the bed was a washstand with a small mirror. And then on the wall with the window was a dainty lady’s vanity. Directly across from the bed was a vast and impressive fireplace with a hand-carved wooden mantel painted white. In the corner to the left of the door sat an overstuffed, upholstered armchair with a footrest at its base, which looked most comfortable.

  There was a home-like quality about it, although it was much grander than my home. The thick carpet, the draperies, and the floral wallpaper were charming. I was certain when the fire was put upon the hearth it would lend just the right feel to it. I surveyed the room for a moment and then looked for something to do rather than stand idle.

  I wandered over to the window, parting the curtains to look out over the main street below. A wagon ambled along, passed beneath the inn and then disappeared down the lane. Sam went over to the bed and laid out my uniform along with his extra so they would be laundered, and then he came and stood next to me by the window with his hand on my shoulder. He kissed me softly upon the cheek. I leaned into him, resting my face against his shoulder.

  “What do you think of it?” he asked.

  I looked up at him with an earnest expression. “It is very nice.”

  He smiled at me, and I attempted to smile back. He was studying me, perhaps trying to discern my thoughts. There was a strange awkwardness between us I didn’t understand, but it was as if the two of us were now strangers to one another. I searched my brain for something to say, but could think of nothing. The air grew stale and I wanted to open the window and stick my head out and take a deep breath.

  “Perhaps we should go look around, see what there is to see,” Sam suggested.

  I nodded my agreement.

  “Yes, that sounds like a good idea.” We left our room, went back through the hall and down the stairs.

  “Just one moment, I need to speak with Mr. Garth,” Sam told me, leaving me to wait by the door. He went over and spoke to Mr. Garth for a short while in whispered tones and then returned to me. “Shall we go?”

  “What was that about?” I asked.

  “Nothing, just making arrangements for our stay.”

  Sam led me along the street, where we spotted the restaurant Mr. Garth mentioned, some town homes, and a few other businesses. The bell above the door gave a pleasant little jingle when Sam opened the door for me at one of the two mercantiles. I thanked him and slipped in to see what they offered.

  There were several people perusing the goods stocking the shelves, and I trailed along behind Sam as he too began inspecting thi
ngs here and there. I ran my fingers along bolts of fabrics and looked over barrels and glass jars with interest, savoring the pleasant smells and enjoying the feel of being in the cool dimness of the place. Eventually an older man, dressed in an apron with garters upon his sleeves approached and kindly asked if he might assist us. He’d only just finished aiding a lady who was trading in her eggs for credit before he moved toward us. Sam nodded cordially to him, with an air of maturity which made me proud to be on his arm.

  “You might,” he said. “We have need of a few items for the lady,” he told the man, gesturing to me.

  His smile broadened. “What can I help you with?”

  “I had my eye on this,” Sam said, motioning toward a nightdress that was lovelier than I could have imagined. It was made of a white, soft cotton flannel with hand tatted lace at the hem and sleeves and neckline. Thankfully the clerk didn’t react, only nodded his head and respectfully kept his eyes off of me. I blushed a deep red from the roots of my hair down to my toes. The man went to get it and put it at the front desk and then came back.

  “Will that be all, or were you looking for something more?” he asked.

  “What about perfume?” Sam asked me. “Would you fancy some perfume, Serena?” I shook my head with a quick jerking motion.

  “Oh, Sam, it’s too much,” I protested.

  “Some perfume, sir,” he said. The man ushered us over to a display of ornate glass bottles, filled with amber liquids smelling marvelously exotic. I could detect their sweet scent before I unstopped a single one.

  “This is the fine selection we carry,” the man told us, selecting one of the perfumes and proffering it to me with the bottom of the bottle nestled the palm of one hand and the neck grasped between thumb and finger with his other hand. “All the way from Paris, France,” he informed me.

  I accepted the perfume and took a whiff, sneezing as the fragrance tickled my nose. Who was I to say I didn’t care for perfume all the way from Paris, France?

  “That is nice,” I said with and ambiguous shrug. “What do you think, Sam?” I asked, holding the bottle up for him to smell.