Destiny's Temprtress

by Janelle Taylor

  After Sarah Jane Sinclair left the spacious room, Shannon went to lie down until Mattilu came to prepare her bath and to strengthen her fire. The days were growing colder and windier. In this hotel, Shannon felt safe and warm, but she fretted over the fact that her love was somewhere battling the enemy as well as this rapidly changing weather.

  She massaged her temples. Her head hurt, but not unbearably. She felt tense and irritable. She was depressed. She stood and stripped off her pants, which seemed tighter today, and she was reminded of how and where she had gotten them. She wrapped a coverlet around her body and walked to the fireplace to stare into the almost serene blaze. She smiled as she recalled her chimney adventure with Blane. She couldn’t imagine where they would have hidden if that fireplace had been in use. She sat in the rocker, again recalling another adventure: the night she had met Blane and he had tied her to a similar chair to interrogate her. So many things reminded her of Blane Stevens.

  Shannon leaned her head against the chair and closed her eyes. She began to rock and to hum. So many images filled her mind: home, her brothers, her adventures, her perils, her dreams, her missing lover. How she longed for this war to end so she could start a new life, hopefully at Greenleaf with Corry and Blane, and Hawke…

  When Mattilu arrived, she suggested that they prepare a tub near the fireplace instead of in the cool bathing closet. Shannon instantly agreed. The buckets of water were passed up from the kitchen by way of a pulley and shaft enclosed in a special cabinet and available for use on each floor. Shannon didn’t mind using the large tin tub rather than the oblong one, for she had no patience for a lengthy soak today. She wanted to bathe, then return to bed.

  As Mattilu assisted her, Shannon conversed with the woman to distract herself from her increasing misery. “I was told you’re a free woman. How long have you worked for the Sinclair sisters?”

  The forty-year-old, brown-skinned woman replied softly, “I’s been wif Missy Sarah Jane since she wuz born. I used ta works fur her family. They’s said I cud be free when them two girls growed up. Missy Sarah Jane kept her papa’s word after he died. Missy Molly wanted Mattilu ta stays a slave. She gived Missy Sarah a bad time onnacouna of ’leasing me. I’s been workin’ fur her ever since. I’s gonna enjoy hepping you, Missy Shannon.”

  Shannon turned her head and grinned at the attractive woman. “You can drop the ruse and false talk, Mattilu. I’m not a Molly or a tattler. I don’t believe in slavery. So you don’t have to pretend with me.”

  Mattilu laughed. “How did you guess?” she inquired.

  “Some of your word choices and pronunciations. I know this must be a difficult time for you, but things will change after the war. You don’t have to be afraid or devious around me. The way things are going, you won’t have to conceal your sharp wits much longer. It must be taxing to playact all the time to keep people from getting nervous.”

  The woman stared at Shannon, who blushed and looked away. Mattilu warned, “I’m not the only one who should watch her words, Miss Shannon. Be real careful around Molly.”

  “What do you mean?” the redhead inquired anxiously.

  “Much as I hate fooling Miss Sarah Jane, I hate slavery more, and I want it ended for all my people. Miss Molly has been asking lots of questions about you. She’s upset because you’re so beautiful and you’ve been traveling with the man who’s got her planning and plotting his bewitchment, but she won’t get him. Miss Sarah Jane is different. She’s sweet and kind, but she’s mighty patriotic.” Mattilu’s voice changed as she revealed, “Major Stevens has been kind and generous to me. I’ve been helping him in little ways, if you understand my meaning. You can find rest and safety here. I promised the major to watch after you. Whatever you need, just call Mattilu—nobody else.”

  Shannon caught the name she had used and the clues in her statements. “You’re smarter and braver than I realized, Mattilu. Like I said, playacting all the time is very hard and dangerous.”

  “I keep my eyes and ears open all the time. I try to help the major, but I don’t take risks. We’ll have to be careful, ’cause we don’t want anyone hearing us talk. This town’s full of Rebel soldiers and Southern loyalists, so you have to be real careful when you go out.”

  “I’m glad you’re here, Mattilu. Now I won’t feel so alone with Blane gone. Did he say anything to you before he left?”

  “He asked me to look after you until he gets back. He told me how you two had to fool Molly. If I had to make a guess, it’s love what put that gleam in his eyes and that cotton in his voice,” she teased.

  Shannon smiled, then laughed. “I hope so, Mattilu. I surely hope so.” She continued with her bath, silent for a time.

  “Miss Shannon, I forgot to tell you; nobody knows about me save the major and Mister Jeremy. I want it kept that way.”

  “I understand, Mattuli. I should explain a few matters to you.” Shannon related how she had met Blane, some of their joint adventures, her search for her brother, and the Cockade ruse. She also explained the story they had told the Sinclair sisters. “Do you think Jeremy has any special feelings for Sarah Jane? I wouldn’t want to encourage her if you think it’s wrong or unwise. They are fighting for opposite sides.”

  “I’ve seen Mister Jeremy watching Miss Sarah Jane when she wasn’t looking, and I’ve seen her do the same. I think something’s budding betwixt them. ’Course Mister Jeremy might think it best to wait until the war’s over to ask her hand in marriage.”

  “Perhaps that would be for the best. The war does have a way of coming between lovers even when they’re working for the same side. I hope Blane isn’t away too long. It’s getting cold outside.”

  “One of the ladies sent a wool cape for you. Miss Sarah Jane has collected lots of clothes as well—pretty ones. Would you like to try them on after your bath?”

  “Not yet, Mattilu. I haven’t been feeling well today.”

  Shannon stood up and stepped out of the tub onto the mat placed there by the serving woman. Mattilu wrapped a drying sheet around her. “I think I’ll lie down for a while. I’ll look at the clothes later.” As Shannon patted the water from her body, the edge of the bath sheet turned red, which instantly explained her symptoms.

  Mattilu noticed her problem and smiled. “I’ll get you some hot tea and monthly cloths, Miss Shannon. You just take it easy.”

  While Shannon awaited the other woman’s return, she realized why she had been feeling so terrible yesterday and today. Suddenly she became aware of another fact—one which might have frightened her if she had thought of it sooner: this was her first monthly flow since August, making her long over a month late. She was delighted it had occurred here in the hotel and with Blane gone. She decided to follow the suggestions of Blane, Mattilu, and Sarah Jane to rest and relax for the next five days. She would sleep, rest, read, eat, and stay warm. Nature’s timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Considering how many times she had made love to Blane, she was fortunate not to be pregnant. She realized she would have to give that part of their relationship deep thought, or she could find herself wearing ill-fitting shoes, similar to those Ellie Stevens was wearing. She loved Blane, and she suspected that he loved her. But what if something happened to him and she was left carrying his child? She smiled. If anything happened to Blane, that’s exactly what she would want!

  Chapter Thirteen

  During those five days when Shannon chose to remain in her room, Mattilu brought her meals, saw to the cleaning of her room, assisted with her baths, took care of her laundry, exchanged genial banter, prevented Molly’s visits, and delivered reading material. It was the newspapers that distressed Shannon. Not only was the news grim, but she realized that Blane had been withholding alarming facts from her.

  Rebel agents had captured letters, Northern newspapers, and telegraph missives and had intercepted messages that the papers printed for all Southerners to read, knowing such quotes would inspire more courage and determination to battle such grisly foes and t
o win the war. After reading such pieces, words such as truce, peace, compromise, or surrender were soon forgotten by provoked and embittered Southerners, even those who had grown weary of the fighting and killing.

  Shannon was staggered by the grisly facts and shocking orders. Grant was quoted commanding Halleck: “Send everything that can be got to eat out of Virginia, clear and clean as they go, so that the crows flying over it will have to carry their provisions with them.” She read Grant’s message to Sheridan: “Carry off stock of all description, and negroes, so as to prevent further planting. We want the Shenandoah Valley to remain a barren waste.” Was this the price and reality of war? Was this how the North intended to accomplish a peaceful reunion?

  Tears filled Shannon’s eyes as she read Sheridan’s response: “I have burned two thousand barns filled with wheat and corn, all the mills in the whole country, destroyed or driven off every animal, even the poultry, that could contribute to human sustenance. Nothing should be left in the Shenandoah but eyes to lament the war.” Shannon wondered how the innocents—women, children, elderly people, the injured—could survive, especially during the freezing winter that was almost upon them.

  But it was the horrors in Georgia that terrified and panicked her. That beautiful city of Atlanta had been destroyed—thousands of homes, farms, businesses, buildings…Nothing was left but “smoke and flame!” The Union soldiers were boasting of looting, burning, pillaging, and Heaven only knew what other foul deeds. It distressed her to read of Sherman’s intentions to burn anything he couldn’t use or carry with him. He had boasted, “Instead of the people there furnishing provisions for the Confederate Army, President Davis will have to supply them or they will starve.” How could Lincoln allow such crimes? How could ordinary men commit them?

  Sherman’s aide-de-camp, Major Nichols, told how the Georgians—especially women—were vulnerable and defenseless. He said that “the rebel inhabitants are in an agony. The soldiers are as hearty and jolly as men can be.” He spoke of the plundering as “one of the pleasantest excitements of our march.” How could honorable officers allow such cruelties? Order them? How could average men—most with families left behind—turn into such monsters, or be so brutal and heartless? What of the innocents? What of the loyal Unionists, their lives, their families, their homes and properties? What of the desolation and death left behind such a wild rampage? Clearly the Union’s strategy was to devastate the South into surrender—financially, socially, economically, industrially, and murderously.

  Shannon’s heart thudded heavily as she continued her reading. Sherman had written to Grant: “I can make Savannah, Charleston, or the mouth of the Chattahoochee. I prefer to march through Georgia, smashing things, to the sea. The utter destruction of its roads, houses, and people will cripple their military resources.” Savannah? she fretted. What of the Confederate treasury at the Hay House in Macon? The munition works in Athens and Augusta? The rescue of Union prisoners at Andersonville? Where would that destroyer head next?

  Shannon read about the torpedoing of the Confederate ram Albermarle on the Roanoke River by Lieutenant Cushing. That event had caused fear to race through the area. She read the reports on the upcoming election. Would Lincoln win again? Should he? She found herself delighting in General Lee’s tenacious hold on Richmond and Petersburg. She read of daring battles between Union gunboats and Rebel blockade runners. Curiously, she felt a deep pride over those victories. Perhaps it was because she hadn’t known of the Union’s “win at any and all costs” strategy. Even during wartime, some deeds were evil.

  When Mattilu revealed General Bragg’s assignment to the Cape Fear defense, Shannon wondered if she should contact him. If so, how should she behave? What should she say? She was a Union agent! How could she betray another of her father’s friends, knowing how her information might be used by men like Sheridan or Sherman? What if she saw or heard things that should be reported to Blane? Could she? If not, what if he discovered she was concealing facts? She decided it would be better not to uncover information that might divide her loyalties.

  If there was one thing that distressed Shannon as much as the atrocities committed by the Union officers and troops, it was the Union’s refusal to exchange or to aid prisoners. Here she was, trying to help her brother escape, when the Confederacy was begging the Union to exchange captured men—if only the wounded or sick! The Confederacy had been trying to take “Christian” care of the Federal prisoners, but supplies and food were desperately low and medicines almost nonexistent. What a horrible choice: to feed and tend one’s own people or the enemy’s?

  President Davis was deeply concerned over his inability to provide the captives with proper care, food, clothing, shelter, and medicines. In 1853, he had been the United States Secretary of War. He had loved this country and had fought for her during the Mexican War. He hated to see any of her people suffer needlessly. He had offered to turn over fifteen thousand sick or wounded prisoners without any exchange; the Union had refused to accept the men! The Confederacy had offered to buy medicines with gold, tobacco, or cotton; again the Union had refused, fearing the medicines would be used on Rebel instead of Yankee soldiers! Wasn’t a dying or wounded man deserving of help, no matter his loyalty?

  One paper told of how a group of Union prisoners was sent to Washington from Andersonville to plead for help and provisions; they were refused! They were told, “No, go back. You are rendering your country better service by staying at Andersonville than you would by being exchanged.” Since all knew of the conditions of that horrible camp, how could Washington make such ridiculous statements and cruel demands? Those politicians and seat-warming soldiers wouldn’t have spoken so foolishly if they had been Confederate captives for a month or so! What if Corry had been one of those pleading prisoners? Surely he would have escaped before returning to such injustice!

  Five thousand more who could not be fed or tended properly had been released and sent to the Federals in Florida; they too had been ordered to return to the prison camp. Despair, dejection, and death had resulted for many of them. What barbaric, inhumane strategy was being practiced? The more Shannon read or heard, the more depressed and confused she became, and the more ashamed for her meager part in this matter. In view of such facts, how could she and Blane—both Southerners —side with the Union and aid such misery?

  That first week of November was cold and damp. Shannon had kept to herself much of the time, claiming lingering fatigue and “female troubles.” Molly Sinclair Ryan had visited her once, to share local gossip and to stress her claim on “Major Steven James.” Shannon had played her indifferent, but respectful, part convincingly. Molly had left her suite all smiles, laughter, and confidence. Since Molly actually did very little work, Sarah Jane stayed too busy to visit more than a few brief times, during which they talked mostly about Jeremy Steele.

  The majority of Shannon’s time was spent alone or in the company of Mattilu. The two women became good friends, frequently exchanging tales of their past lives. As Mattilu was acquainted with Blane and could accidentally drop a clue before Shannon herself could confide in Blane about Hawke, she was careful not to mention him.

  As everyone expected, Lincoln was elected President again. It was proclaimed that the military victories by Sherman, Sheridan, and Farragut had won him that political triumph. Shannon decided that Lincoln was either receiving terrible advice or being kept ignorant of the deplorable actions of his army, for surely he would not have permitted them. How she wished she could return to Washington and open his eyes.

  Newspapers continued to declare that neither side would yield. Lee was holding Grant at bay, refusing to allow the Union’s conquest of the Confederate capitol and the strategic city of Petersburg. But Grant was determined to win that area, though losses on both sides were awesome. Both armies were exhausted and embittered but seemingly resolved to battle to the death of every man present.

  Another week passed, and Sherman was reported on the move again, heading s
outheast and cutting a wide path of devastation across Shannon’s home state. His men had rested and feasted in Atlanta until the twelfth; they were said to be in excellent health and high spirits now. Rapaciously foraging along their trail to the sea, they would remain healthy and strong while weakening or destroying those left behind in their path. He was doing more than trying to break the Confederacy’s spirit and sever supply lines; he was trying to crippleor destroy the South, to savagely punish all Georgians regardless of age or sex or guilt.

  The Seventy-seventh Regiment and companies of artillerymen were ordered from North Carolina to the defense of Savannah. Hood had tried valliantly to lure Sherman out of Atlanta and Georgia, using himself and his men as decoys. True, Sherman wanted to defeat Hood, but his voracious appetite for Georgia’s destruction had been whetted. When Hood headed into Tennessee to attack Nashville, Sherman sent Thomas in pursuit to defend and hold that conquered area.

  On November fifteenth, Shannon took her first evening meal downstairs, much to the surprise and pleasure of several officers dining there, and much to the vexation of an envious Molly, whose emerald satin gown the copper-haired beauty was wearing. To further irritate her sister, Sarah Jane introduced Shannon to the officers and to other couples present, then seated her at a table with five important guests.

  Shannon smiled and spoke genially with men who were serving under Whiting and Lamb at Fort Fisher, as well as the messenger between Governor Vance and Fort Fisher, Mrs. Armand DeRossett of the Ladies’ Relief Society, and Captain Elisha Carter of the blockade runner, Rebel Gate.

  Mrs. DeRossett entreated Shannon to join her Ladies’ Relief Society and help them with their mercy mission until she left for home. Shannon accepted the woman’s plea for help, but not for the reason Blane had suggested. She would not spy on those wounded men; she would nurse them and comfort them. Mrs. DeRossett was to send word when trains arrived. On Tuesdays, the society met to roll bandages and to collect helpful gifts from the local residents.