by Sara Orwig
“Miss Sophia, sorry about Mista Amos.”
“Thank you, Henry,” she said.
Another knock sounded and Henry moved haltingly to the door and opened it. Caleb heard voices, and Clairice Stanton swept into the room with Hannah Lou. “Sophia! We just heard about Amos.”
Mrs. Stanton wrapped Sophia in her arms while Hannah Lou dabbed at her eyes and looked at Caleb. Then Mrs. Stanton moved away and Hannah Lou hugged Sophia.
“We just heard,” Mrs. Stanton said to Caleb. “The lists are in and several local boys were on the list. Carson Brenner, James Whiteman—”
“James and Carson and Amos?” Sophia said, tears still coursing down her cheeks. Caleb wanted to put his arm around her, but stood where he was. She didn’t need any rumors that might sully her reputation.
Another knock sounded and the Hamptons entered. “Major O’Brien. Clairice and Hannah Lou,” a tall woman said. She turned to Sophia to hug her. “Sophia, I’m so sorry.”
Caleb stepped back, and Hannah Lou moved to his side. “It’s so terrible,” Hannah Lou said.
“Every battle will be terrible. We had some battles at first that were routs,” the major said, “but after the fighting I saw near Shiloh, I don’t think there’ll be many more routs.”
“James and Carson and Amos and there are others. William Spencer and Dade Waterford. They all wanted to be together and they joined at the same time,” Sophia broke in. When she cried softly, Caleb patted her back and she leaned against his shoulder.
In minutes the room was filled with people and Caleb saw dishes of food go past in the hallway as people brought steaming platters and bowls of food.
Later, Dr. Perkins stepped in front of Caleb and shook his left hand. “Glad you’re still here. She’s going to need someone the next few days. And she’ll need help next week when it’s time to get out the paper.”
“I had planned to leave tomorrow—”
“Son, you listen to me. You can’t fire a gun, and there’s no rush to get yourself back onto a battlefield. You don’t have parents or a wife waiting for you. You stay right here. She saw you through a tough time. Now you see her through one. I like Miss Sophia and I don’t want her left alone yet.”
“Yes, sir. I’d already decided to stay for a few more days.”
“You stay until she’s more herself. And knowing Sophia, it won’t be long.”
Late that night when he closed the door behind the minister and the entire Stanton family, Caleb turned to her. “Will Stanton brought over a bottle of brandy. Sit down in the parlor and I’ll pour you a glass.”
“I’ve never had brandy in my life.”
“It’s like dancing. You’ll love it.”
She gave him a faint smile, and then it faded and he saw the hurt return. In minutes he sat down next to her on the faded rose horsehair sofa. He handed her the brandy and after the first sip, she coughed.
“Ugh! You like this?”
“Keep at it. It’ll do you good tonight. You might even feel like sleeping.”
“I don’t now. And you don’t have to sit with me.”
“I know I don’t. How old was Amos?”
“Eighteen. Morris is twenty and John is twenty-three. I don’t even know if Morris and John know yet.”
“You said Morris and Amos were together.”
“The last letter from Morris said Amos was fighting with General Jackson, and Morris hadn’t been in a battle. The last I heard from John, he hadn’t been in battle either. John’s with General Lee.
Caleb settled back, pulling off his boots and stretching out his long legs. “Did Amos look like you?”
“Others would probably say he did. Morris and I resemble each other the most. John is taller and heavier and darker. He doesn’t look like the rest of us. Amos had the same color hair I do, but he was very tall and thin. He was closest in age to me, and we played together often as children.”
“You’re still a child. There are children fighting in this war. Other than the generals, I didn’t know anyone over twenty-two years old and I knew plenty who were only eighteen. Most of them were eighteen. Except Will.”
“Amos was so young. He was the best help at getting the paper delivered. And he could fix anything around the house or at the paper. You have two brothers?”
“I had three. We were coming to the United States from Ireland and our ship wrecked. We were separated and I kept Darcy with me. Later I found Rafe in New Orleans and I settled there. We never have found Fortune. We were headed for New Orleans when the ship went down. After all this time, I can finally accept that Fortune drowned.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. How old was he?”
“I was seventeen. Fortune was fifteen, Darcy was seven. Rafferty is the oldest. He was twenty-two.”
“You’ve finally stopped hurting?” she asked, studying him, and he reached out to wipe a tear off her cheek with his thumb. Her skin was soft, smooth as satin.
“Sometimes it hurts, but not like it did the first few years. We were close.”
“So were we. I always tagged along with my brothers and our father took us with him to the paper from the time my mother died when I was nine.”
Caleb sipped his brandy and watched her while she talked. She stared ahead, seeming to forget his presence, reminiscing about her brother while she unwound one of her braids and ran her fingers through her hair to loosen the plait. He set down his glass and reached to take down the other thick braid to undo it. Her hair was silky sliding over his fingers. When it fell over her shoulders, he turned her slightly and kneaded the muscles in her back with his left hand.
“Does that help you relax?”
“I don’t think anything can help, but thank you.”
He wondered if she knew he was present. She seemed lost in her thoughts, continuing to talk about her brothers. Finally he sat back and poured more brandy for both of them.
It was almost dawn when she looked drowsy. He took the brandy glass from her hand and set it on the table, pulling her against his left side. “Go to sleep, Sophia,” he said softly, keeping his arm around her. In minutes he felt dampness against his chest and knew she was crying again. She wiped her eyes and then became quiet. Her hand shifted across his thigh. Her breathing was even and she slept. He leaned closer to kiss the top of her head. So many men killed. And so many more would be killed. She had only two brothers left now. He prayed they would come through the war.
“Tough little Sophia,” he whispered, remembering that moment when he had faced her over the muzzle of her rifle on the battlefield. She would survive this, too, but he knew how she hurt. Losing Fortune had been gradual, no abrupt message saying he had drowned at sea, but it hurt so badly. For years he couldn’t accept it, still searching crowds for sight of him, Rafferty running ads and haunting the docks at New Orleans to ask about Fortune. Looking down at Sophia, Caleb felt a yearning and he cursed his injury, wishing he could pull her onto his lap and hold her close. And kiss her. He pushed images from his mind, staring into space, knowing he couldn’t leave Memphis tomorrow as he had planned.
A memorial service was held Sunday afternoon at the Cavalry Episcopal Church for all the men lost in the latest battle. Monday morning Caleb unpacked his things and told her he would help print the Thursday edition of the paper. She went with him and he knew she was better off, because work would take her mind off her loss.
Grief insulated Sophia from the rampant speculation about the Union army and each day Caleb’s worries for her safety grew. And land was available, people putting it up for sale at giveaway prices to get out of town and escape a conflict. He had bought five lots and he intended to buy more land before he left Memphis. And there was a prize he particularly wanted.
On the second of June as Sophia sat over breakfast in the dining room, Major O’Brien came through the door.
“Sophia, I want to talk to you.”
“Yes, Major?”
He sat down to her right, pulling his chair cl
ose, and she caught a clean, soapy scent. His hair was damp and he wore a cotton shirt and new black cotton trousers. “You said once that your father left you comfortably fixed and the paper brings in a revenue.”
“That’s right.”
“If you have funds available, there’s land going up for sale here every day and the prices are good. I’d advise you to buy some land. After the war, it should be worth more.”
She gazed beyond him. “I hadn’t thought about it. I know people are leaving Memphis and I know I plan to stay. I suppose John would want me to purchase some land if I can get it at a good price.”
“You know I’ve bought several lots and I intend to buy some more before I leave. I’m going to look at some today if you want to come with me.”
“You’re definitely coming back?”
“I might settle here. Why does that surprise you?”
“I can’t imagine you settling anywhere. You look like the type to roam.”
He leaned back on the chair and stretched out his long legs. “I worry about Darcy. I want to own a home and give him a more settled life. In not too many years, he’ll be grown. And as for selecting Memphis—the business possibilities are endless. I’ll start a business here.
“What kind of business?”
He was staring at her throat, and she realized she hadn’t fastened the top button. She tugged it into place while he watched her. “I want to build a railroad.”
“A railroad!” she exclaimed, feeling annoyed with him.
“I know how your father felt about them, but that’s progress, Sophia. You should fight saloons and support the railroads. After the war, railroads ought to spread across this nation like birds in springtime.”
She frowned. “You know they bring all sorts of troublemakers and wild people into town.”
“Maybe they bring wild women and gamblers, but they also can haul cotton and machinery and travelers easier, more conveniently, and faster than stages or horses or wagons. Have you ever ridden on a train?”
“You know I haven’t.”
“If I had the opportunity, I’d take you on one. Memphis is on the river and it’s only a hundred miles from the frontier. When this war is over, I think more people will head West and many will come through Memphis. I’ve talked to men in town and I know they tried to get the connection for a railway between the East and West coasts to come through Memphis.”
“That will depend on the outcome of the war. I’d think you’d want to live in New Orleans. You call it home.”
“I want to get out on my own instead of working with my brother. And business prospects look enormous here. I want to settle and have a home for Darcy.”
Sophia studied him. “I can’t imagine anyone, including your older brother, telling you what to do and succeeding in getting you to do what they say.”
He laughed. “I’ve done some things you asked.”
“Only when it suits you.”
“I’ve bought the old Memphis and Arkansas line from here through Arkansas. I’m acquiring the land in Arkansas. Jordan Dalton is my lawyer and agent.”
“The Memphis and Arkansas never did run!” Astounded, her thoughts swirled. He was returning to Memphis.
He touched a stray wisp of hair that escaped her braid. His gaze searched her face, and she felt her pulse race as he leaned closer. As his eyes met hers, he looked solemn.
“I didn’t come in here to discuss business. There’s something else. You’re here alone, and the city may be under siege soon. Everyone expects an attack. I’ve talked to Will and his mother said you can move into their house.”
Sophia shook her head, feeling a twinge of annoyance.
“Don’t argue, Sophia. You can’t face an army alone,” he insisted.
“I’ll manage,” she said. “I’ve gotten along just fine here and I have Mazie and Henry.”
“You take care of them as much as they take care of you. If an army occupies this town, you’re a woman alone and soldiers will soon know it and take advantage of you.”
“I’ve taken care of you and other soldiers, run the paper and the house, and I have no intention of moving in with the Stantons. You take care of yourself, Major O’Brien,” she said firmly.
He studied her and she could feel the tug start again between them, an invisible clash that set every nerve on edge, that made her watch him warily even though he was sitting still doing nothing.
“You don’t know anything about soldiers far from home.”
“I’ll remember the Stantons’ offer.” Their words were polite but the tension between them wasn’t. She didn’t want him telling her what to do when he was leaving and she wouldn’t see him again for years if ever. “There may not be an attack.”
“Everyone expects it soon. General Thompson says he can hold back the enemy if he has a militia, but so far, he has only a handful of volunteers. Not enough to protect the city. And if the city falls to the enemy, you’ll have to sign an oath of allegiance to continue printing your paper.”
“Never!” she exclaimed.
He ran his hand across his brow. “Sophia, you have a stubborn streak in you that will get you into trouble.”
“I’ll bring the small press home and hide it here. I’ll put it in Amos’s room,” she said defiantly.
“You can go to prison for that! They won’t allow you to print a paper that supports the Confederacy. The Appeal is all set to move their presses out of town. They’ll put them on the railroad and go.”
“How do you know they’ll flee Memphis?”
“Benjamin Dill told me about the possibility.” Caleb stood erect, showing how much he had recovered. “Want to look at property with me?”
He towered over her and she felt uncertain about him. “Yes, Major. I’ll get my bonnet.”
Three days later he walked into the office while she worked. It was early afternoon and Sophia looked up as the bell jingled over the door. Her pulse skipped as she gazed at him. His brown unruly curls were windblown and he wore a Confederate uniform and he looked different. And then she saw his arm.
He paused and held out his arms.
“My goodness—your arm is healed!”
“I’ve told Doctor Perkins goodbye. Look here—” He waved his arm and winced, grinning at her. “My arm is weak and it hurts to move, but I’m out of the cast.”
“Wonderful!” she exclaimed, standing up as he approached the desk. His green eyes sparkled, and she remembered that night in the barn. “I didn’t think I could get either one of you to Memphis in time.”
“But you did,” he said, holding his arms out and then dropping them to his sides. “And now I’m going to ride out of town and practice shooting. Come with me.”
“You just said you’re weak and you hurt.”
“I do, but I have to start sometime.”
“I need—”
“Tomorrow I’ll be on my way to New Orleans. Come on, Sophia. Shut the office.”
She stared at him. He was really leaving now. She nodded, feeling a strange sense of loss. She had become accustomed to him at the house.
She put her bonnet on her head and he reached out, taking the ribbons from her hands to tie it beneath her chin, smiling at her. Gazing into his green eyes, she smiled in return.
“It’s the first week of June and it feels like June,” he said in his deep voice. “Summer in the South. Hot, and at home the steamy afternoons were lazy, clouds so white in the sky and bees buzzing around the flowers and the smell of grass in the air.”
“Home? New Orleans or Ireland?”
“New Orleans. I stopped thinking of Ireland as home a long time ago. It seems like forever since I left. My ties are here now. I think this country is magnificent. I love the hot days and warm nights of summer. I love the railroads and their big steam engines. I love Memphis with its bluffs high above the Mississippi and the steamboats that stop here and the people who pour in and out of here. It has beautiful homes, beautiful trees, and beautiful women
,” he said, gazing down at her with his brow arched.
“Hannah Lou and Lydia Hobson are very beautiful.”
“You know I’m not talking about them,” he said quietly, turning her to face him as they reached the buggy.
She gave him a wide-eyed stare, feeling warm, thrilled by his words while at the same time, knowing she shouldn’t give them much heed. He helped her into the buggy.
She glanced at him as they rode along Front Street. He was handsome and she didn’t want to think about his leaving or about his going back into battle. “I suppose I shouldn’t worry about you returning to fight. You’re so tough.”
He glanced around. “The most rugged man on earth can’t stop a minié ball.”
They rode out Chickasaw Street past the saw mills and the gas works, crossing Gayoso Bayou to turn east on Mill and back north on Main until they were out of Memphis. Pulling off in high grass in a field dotted with trees, Caleb climbed down and offered his hand to help her.
Holding his revolver with both hands, he fired at a dead tree. Within seconds pain shot like fiery arrows through the muscles in his arm, but he clamped his jaws together and continued to fire. To his relief he began to hit his target. All too soon his arm tired. Sophia sat on a tree stump watching him, and he glanced at her.
“Want to try?”
She stood and walked over to him. She had shed her bonnet and unbuttoned the top buttons of her black dress and the tiny glimpse of flesh drew his attention. She wore the emerald necklace daily. “Come here and I’ll show you how to fire this. It’s already loaded and this has a repeating action.”
She smiled and took the revolver from his hand. “You forget I have brothers.” She held the weapon with both hands. “I’ll shoot at the end of the lowest branch,” she said, aiming at the same dead tree he had used for a target. She missed the first time, but the second was on target. She returned the revolver to him. “It’s been a long time since I practiced.”
“I should have known. Will you write to me?” he asked, looking down at her.
“If you’d like.”
“I’d like it very much. I’ll worry about you. When I come back to Memphis, I expect you’ll be married to some Confederate officer.”