by S A Ison
“I can’t get the bleeding to stop.” Mary said, trying desperately to keep her voice even.
“Let me see.” Liza whispered. Liza ordered Ginny to get her herb bag. Ginny rushed from the cabin and returned shortly with Liza’s medicine bag. She poured hot water into a bowl and then added herbs. The scent of green things mixed with the acrid scent of blood. The dirt floor was muddy from the blood from the dead men.
Mary stood back as she watched the older woman work, her hands tender with indefatigable strength. Mary held Nan’s prostrate body up while they fed her a stringent tea. Silent hours passed, and tea was remade and given. It was late in the day when Nan finally came to, and her bleeding had subsided. She was weak and pale, but alive. She didn’t have to ask about the unborn child, the sorrow was etched deep in those around her.
Gabe was sent for as well as her boys. Nan cried softly, too weak to do much else. Gabe cradled his wife, his tears mixing with hers. No one had the heart to tell Nan that Samuel was gone. That could wait until the morrow, when Nan was stronger to take the news. Mary left them with Liza and headed back up to the house. She felt drained of spirit and of strength, she needed her children desperately. She found them in the study with John and Patina.
“The baby didn’t make it. Nan is conscious and we think she’ll live.” Mary said softly. The old man nodded weakly, his mouth trembling. Patina uttered a soft sob and hid her face in her hands. The house was quiet around them and Mary sat on the floor, gathering Ida into her lap. Patina went to the cradle and picked up Victor and brought the child to his mother. Mary held her son to her and rocked him.
Nan recovered and both children were laid to rest in the same small grave. Mary watched as Nan went through the motions but wasn’t really there. There was no joy, no animation and no spark of life. Gabe was like a shadow, hovering over and around his wife, helpless. Nan didn’t speak, her large eyes blank. She ate very little and only moved and worked mechanically. She withered away to skin and bones and when spring came, Nan gave up her fight for life and died, leaving Gabe heartbroken, with four children.
Liza was bitter with sadness, but with four boys to take care for, it was easier to smile as the days wore on. Their antics kept her busy and Mary thought that the children sensed their father and grandmother needed them to lift the sadness that hung over them all. Bethy helped Liza to care for the boys.
The six men who had attacked the farm had been left to rot several miles up the road, as a warning to any who thought to raid the property. A sign had been left with the bodies, “TRESSPASSERS WILL BE SHOT”. Their rotting corpses a testament to that fact.
Life went on, though no word had come from either Todd or Theo. The slaves made their way to the fields each day to toil in the warm brilliant sun. Word came by way of rumors and letters as to how the war was going. Many of the surrounding plantations had lost vast numbers of their slaves due to starvation and runaways.
It was late May, when Theodore Drake Anderson returned home, in the back of a wagon. Mary heard the bell that sent the alarm that strangers approached. Dark Henry and Gabe left the smithy house and walked down the lane to meet the wagon. Henry ran ahead to tell his master that his beloved son was home at last.
Mary helped John down the steps of the porch. He had weakened alarmingly after the marauder’s raid and seemed on the verge of death many times. His thin legs were shaky and each step was painful to watch. John held onto Patina with one arm, and his other arm wrapped around Mary, who held Victor on her hip. Victor was busily gnawing on his fist, unimpressed with the commotion around him. He was a handsome baby and sweet natured, favoring his father in looks and temperament.
As the wagon pulled up to the house, Gabe helped the young master from out of the wagon bed. He grabbed a duffle bag, that had all of Theo’s belongings. Theo stood gaunt and pale, but alive before his father, both looking hauntingly similar in stature and presence. Mary was taken back on the change in Theo. Patina sucked in her breath, shocked.
Theo stood in the dooryard, looking at the people in front of him. The wagon pulled away, several other men were in the back, being delivered to their respective homes. Theo stood silently looking at his father. He was stunned, he had left his father hale and hardy, but now, before him stood the husk of the man he knew and loved. His eyes began to tear up, blurring the frail image of his father and Theo bit down on the sorrow and valiantly pulled himself together.
His eyes moved to Patina, her face as beautiful as ever and his heart flip flopped in his chest. His eyes moved to Mary, who was holding a baby. Then to Henry, his childhood friend. He had wanted to be home so badly, but the infection in his arm had kept him weak and he’d nearly died three times. He moved to his father and gathered the old man to him with his single arm and held on.
To say John was stunned would have been a colossal understatement. Had he not known that it was his son standing before him, he would not have recognized this wretched ghostly man. Theo was nearly skeletal, his body emaciated and wasted with fever and sickness. His left arm was missing, cut off near the shoulder. His gaunt features reflected the horrors he had witnessed and derisory medical care he’d been forced to endure.
John’s spine straightened and he pulled his son into his arms, surprising Theo with his strength. His son was home and that was all that mattered. John knew that Mary and Patina would take good care of Theo and when Theo saw his son, John knew deep down that it would heal Theo more than anything else could.
Mary was moved by the deep love she saw in both men’s eyes. She knew that her master would be alright, now that his beloved son was home. She hoped that Theo would be alright, especially when he was introduced to Drake. She looked when she saw Cookie inside the door, a huge smile on her face. Mary knew that Cookie had babied Theo when he was younger. Mary knew that Cookie would feed Theo, no, stuff Theo. She smiled at the thought. Cookie wouldn’t take no for an answer. That boy was getting fed and Mary saw the calculating gleam in Cookies eyes as she disappeared back into the house.
Father and son sat on the porch, watching the sun as it began its descent, its luminous rays turning the cloudy sky to lavender. The cool evening breeze brought laughter drifting up from the slave quarters. Word had spread like heat lightning of the young master’s return. It was a time for celebrating. The slaves made their way up to the main house to give their respects to their young master.
Once the slaves had gone back to their homes, Patina came shyly to the porch, Drake in her arms, sucking his thumb, his large blue eyes watching his father warily. She was nervous, wondering how Theo would treat their son. She had been shaken when she had seen Theo. He was so thin and his missing arm made him clumsy and off balance. It was as though he were not use to walking or even standing. He was clearly still weak.
John quieted his rambling as Patina walked near the men. She noticed that John’s eyes seemed to glow with an inner light of joy. Theo hadn’t notice her as yet and was looking off to the outer buildings. John nodded for Patina to come forward with her son. It was time for Theo to meet his son, and John was as nervous as Patina, she could see. She held her breath as she waited for Theo to notice them.
Theo was overwhelmed by his homecoming, the farm looked so run down and the house seemed as if sadness were a living breathing thing. The very air of the house felt heavy with dust and depression. Theo had walked the floors, going from room to room opening the windows to let air and sunlight in. Now, sitting out on the porch gave him room to breathe. He had spent too many nights confined in a hospital bed.
He had spent months in the hospital tent, plagued with bone rattling chills, that shook him to the core. His fevers were persistent and debilitating and even now he could feel one coming on. He had been shot down in South Carolina and sent to a mobile hospital near Georgia. His left forearm had a bullet embedded into the bone. The field doctor had dug and probed with no luck. Theo had screamed until he passed out into sweet oblivion. He woke shortly after, only to be met with the
searing pain in his arm.
He had been sent to a hospital in Georgia, near Savannah, where the doctor reopened the wound and dug the bullet out. There was no anesthesia, no whisky, nor morphine. Theo had passed out after the doctor had struck bone. The infection that ensued was as bad as the surgery. Theo’s arm was as hot as Satan’s ass and became putrid, smelling of impending death. Theo had hovered in and out of consciousness for weeks.
The incompetent doctor had cut his arm off at the elbow, but the infection persisted. Out of desperation, the doctor had cut the rest of the arm off just below the armpit. Theo’s screams still echoed in his mind, the pain taking him to the precipice of madness. He lay near death for many weeks, wishing and wanting to give up. But his body had lived.
While he lay recuperating, he received a battered and filthy letter from Sarah, it was over five months old. Eagerly, he opened his fiancé’s letter with his right hand and teeth, a soft smile lighting his gaunt features. His eyes scanned the feminine scrawl, his heart beating heavily in his chest. He had to reread the letter; he could not believe his eyes. Sarah was begging out of the marriage, she told him she had met a gentleman from the north and felt her prospects were better with him.
She went on to tell him that her gentleman was rich and that he could keep her in the style she was use to. She told him that she never fancied herself a farmer’s wife. She added at the end, as an afterthought, that she hoped his health was well and wished him the best. The ragged letter fell from his only hand, his eyes blank with stunned disbelief. His health took a turn for the worse and he refused to eat. An older woman, Mrs. Gray, who resembled a Conestoga wagon, took interest in him and force fed him. Her broad features and steel gray hair belied her tender nature, and Theo found himself reluctantly liking her. She became his confidant and he poured his heart out to her. She consoled him about the jilting and told him life was too short to put all his eggs in one basket.
She reiterated that he was a handsome young man and any girl worth her salt would love to have him. By the spring, Theo was feeling better and the nightmares of battle began to fade. He bade Mrs. Gray goodbye and kissed her on her flushed cheek. Her bright blue eyes filled with tears as she waved an old apron after him. The ride home was long and tedious, jarring his head and loosening his teeth. The men who rode along with him were in worse shape than he, which was saying a lot. The private beside him had been scalped and blinded by a rogue deserter, whom he had stumbled across. The young man had been robbed and beaten, then blinded and scalped. Across from Theo had been an old sergeant, who had both legs blown off by a cannon ball, and Theo suspected that his manly parts were blown off as well. He wore swaddling around his waist.
In the corner lay a man with both hands blown off and part of his lower jaw. His tongue protruded grotesquely from his malformed mouth, causing him to constantly drool. He kept his face hidden away from everyone and wore a wide brim hat low on his face. Theo’s arm ached terribly, but he knew it wasn’t there. Sometimes he woke in the dark of night, sure it had all been a dream. When he brought his hands before him, the overwhelming need to die came back.
That was all behind him now, he was home now, with his father. With Mary and with the slaves. Theo didn’t know what he had been fighting for, anymore. The lines were blurred and he no longer wanted to be a slave owner, he no longer wanted to be a soldier. He just wanted to be home. That was why he’d come home. He wanted to start anew. He wanted to be a farmer. He had come home to farm. He had come home to rebuild himself and his life.
Theo watched the fireflies begin to hover around the bushes. He could smell the aromas of cooking drifting up from the cabins. Soft laughter accompanied the fragrance of wood smoke and settled Theo’s raw spirit. Sitting back in the weathered rocking chair, he breathed in deeply, appreciating the fresh air. He didn’t miss the smell of sulfur, gunpowder and blood. From the corner of his eye he caught the movement of skirt. He turned and saw Patina, holding a baby. At first, he didn’t think anything about Patina holding a baby, and then it struck him, like a cannon ball to the gut. The child she was holding looked just like Megan when she was a baby, he had seen the paintings. That said, the baby looked just like him. His mouth hung open, his mind reeling from the ramifications.
John leaned over and gently shut his son’s mouth, smiling at his grandson. Patina stepped closer, bringing her son to Theo for inspection. Theo reached up awkwardly for the child, shifting him to sit squarely on his lap. In the growing darkness, he examined the boy, noting his bright blue eyes and fair skin. He looked up at Patina questioningly.
Shyly smiling back at her young master, she shook her head yes to his unasked question. Amazed, he looked back down at his son, his heart pounding with emotion. Clearing his throat, he asked her, “Girl or boy?”
“He be a boy suh, I name him Drake, after his daddy.” She said shyly, her eyes glancing over to the elder gentleman.
“Drake” Theo breathed the name, he inhaled the toddler’s scent, the soft curls tickling his nose. The toddler suddenly laughed, a joyous and precious laugh and grabbed at his father’s nose. Surprise and delight filled Theo’s sad blue eyes; his sorrows forgotten. Theo fell immediately and helplessly in love with his son. His smile lit up his emaciated face and the old handsomeness blossomed forth. It was good to be home and Sarah long forgotten along with the war. He had a son now and he had Patina, who was still smiling at him, a glimmer in her eyes. Yes indeed, it was good to be home.
Slowly with the help of Cookie and Mary, Theo began to gain weight and regain his health. Patina constantly encourage Theo to eat. Mary and Cookie thought this very funny, as Theo followed Patina about the house like a lovesick rooster. Theo carried Drake around the farm with him, sitting in front of him on the horse. Theo rode with Tall Tom, both swinging back into old habits and old conversations.
Mary and Patina worked around the house, taking the babies as they went. Ida was a big helper, taking a dusting rag to everything below the knees. Soon the house smelled of lemon oil and sweet bayberry. The house glowed softly, the windows open, to receive the fragrant floral perfume from the garden. Mary went out each day to fight the weeds that were creeping all over the roses. She kept the garden up for the memory of Victoria. Ida pulled the weeds and the flowers, helping her mother out with great gusto.
Since Theo’s homecoming, Henry and Tom went back to their cabins. Patina remained in the house in the spare bedroom. Theo made nightly trips to the room and left before dawn. His spirit seemed to be rising and his good humor back to its normal affable zeal. He was seen many times, shoulder to shoulder with Tom, arguing vociferously about his ideas for agriculture. The summer was peaceful and prosperous. John was feeling better and was enjoying the children. He abdicated the farm over to Theo, though missing an arm, was fully capable of taking care all farm business. Over Patina’s protest, Theo took Drake with him about the farm. Like the sun, Drake rose and set in his father’s eyes, Drake was a daddy’s boy through and through.
Mary and Henry lay in bed with the children, Ida was patting her father’s bald head, laughing at the slapping noise. Victor lay contently at his mother’s breast, playing with the nipple. Life had settled down to a trouble-free tempo around the house. John seemed more at ease and he was eating better. He had lost quite a bit of weight since Victoria’s death. It was good to have Theo home again.
The days blended together, without Clark to make life miserable, laughter was effortless and the community breathed easier. There had been no more raids to the farm, the skeletal remains of the six deserters warned off any who thought twice about coming onto the property. There had been several visits from troops quartered near Hinesville. Theo had sent them on their way with nothing, telling them he had given the army all they were going to get, making his point with his army musket.
October brought gusting winds and bad news; a rider came to the house late in the afternoon. Mary was outside sweeping leaves off the porch. The rider came off the horse, out of breath,
encrusted with road dust.
“Get your master, girl, make it quick, I ain’t got time to be waiting on your slow ass.” He said, spitting a long stream of tobacco. Mary felt the hairs raise on the back of her neck; the man was purely rancid. He could only be bringing bad news; she turned and ran into the house calling for Theo and John.
John was carrying Drake when he came out to the porch, seeing the ragged and dusty man, he held Drake closer to him. The rider tipped his hat and handed over a soiled envelope. He turned without another word and mounted his horse to leave. Mary came out on the porch, watching the man leave. He looked at her once more and spit a stream of tobacco.
Mary sent one of the children to fetch young master Theo. She knew deep in her heart it was bad news and she didn’t want John alone. She followed John into the study, taking Drake from him. Seeing Patina, she handed the boy off to her, shaking her head when Patina started to speak. She continued to follow John into the study, standing silently by the door, waiting for Theo to come.
John placed the missive on the well-oiled desk, the late afternoon sun streaming in from the window, casting golden light into the room. Molts of dust danced within the molten light, swirling with the currents of air caused from the disturbance of the two people. With unspoken agreement, John waited with Mary for his son, he too knew it was bad news and did not have the strength to open and read the dispatch.
Nerves were stretched raw, both jumped when the front door slammed shut, heralding Theo’s arrival. His tall form came swiftly into the study, seeing first Mary, then his father, noting their tense faces. Theo’s eyes found the sachet on his father’s desk and Mary saw him blanch. It could only be bad news and Mary knew he too felt reluctant to open Pandora’s Box.
Wiping his dusty hand on his britches, he tentatively picked up the envelope, looking it over before opening it. Mary held her breath as she waited for the news. When she saw Theo’s shoulders slump in defeat, she felt as thought the wind was knocked out of her. She knew it was bad news, and her heart went out to her this man, she had hoped against hope that it wasn’t so.