“What do you mean?” Andrew’s accusatory tone was bringing Davin to a stark realization. Did he know? No. He knew nothing of his world. It was dark but hidden.
“Your Mr. Lowery.”
Davin’s knees began to wobble. How could he have known?
“Mr. Alton Lowery. His son, your good friend Tristan, offered thousands of dollars. More than we would ever need to mend our finances.”
“What . . . what for?” Would he sink even deeper in the lie? It seemed the only way out.
“And when that didn’t work, he threatened to blackmail us. Or should I say you. If we went ahead with our story, they would have you ruined and taken Clare down with you.”
The music started again, a dirge deep and foreboding, and it was the perfect accompaniment to the sickness growing throughout Davin. They had said it would be impossible to get caught.
“Yes. They set you up, Davin. They listed you as the primary in their transactions. It’s the only reason we haven’t run the story yet. I needed to clear your name.”
“What does Clare think?” Davin’s childhood flashed before him. Who else was left for him to betray? He ruined his brother’s ministry, laughing and mocking as the water washed him down the slope of the Sierra. But Clare? She was untouchable. Everything in his life suddenly was toppling.
“She doesn’t know. Clare doesn’t know any of this. Which has been nearly impossible to keep from her. But it would destroy her to learn of what you’ve done. Her brother, involved in the smuggling of cotton from the enemy. The very ones who are responsible for all of this.” Andrew nodded toward the gathering. “Your people. You’ve turned on them. And your family as well.”
Davin began to cry. And as he did, he expected the eyes before him to claw deeper, but instead, Andrew’s expression melted to one of deep compassion, and in a moment, Davin was in his arms.
“I know who you are,” Andrew whispered in his ear. “I know who you can be.”
These words were even more painful to Davin because he was shaken by Andrew’s grace.
“What am I to do now?” Davin stepped back and wiped his eyes, pleased to see they were still unnoticed.
“The story will run in a few days. We’re going to be taking them down. As it turned out, they had the secret blessing of the United States government who needed the cotton for uniforms as well as keeping the economy healthy. But that will all be denied and there will be a great uneasiness for anyone involved here in New York.”
“So you are saying I should leave town.”
“Tonight if you can. I don’t think it’s safe for you with the Lowerys anymore. They’ll think you gave them up.”
“What about Clare?”
“You’ll have to leave that for me to explain.”
Davin reached into his pocket and pulled out his checkbook. “Then you must allow me to make this right.”
Andrew held on to Davin’s wrist and nudged it back. “We can’t take any of your money now, Davin. We have to keep our distance. That’s to protect Clare.”
The words sunk in deeply. First he had disgraced Seamus and now he was about to do the same with his sister. He was ready to run. To get away from all of this. But where would he go? Back out West?
He put his hand on Andrew’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
“There is a better way to thank me.” Andrew smiled. “Come back, Davin. To the boy you were. The man you could be. That’s what your sister would give her life up for. What she’s dedicated every day of her life for. Her family. If not for yourself. Do it for Clare.”
Davin put his hands in his pockets. “Are you leaving? I should be going.”
“I might as well cover the requiem for the paper.” Andrew grabbed Davin by the arm. “This time. Make sure you write.”
“I will.” Davin slid away and down the hall, then opened the great doors to the light outside, which was bright enough he had to cover his hand over his eyes. What would Clare think of him when this all came out?
He moved down the steps and felt a strange bounce. There was shame he experienced. But something else as well. Relief. As if he was free of the burden he was carrying, the one he didn’t even realize existed.
Tristan had been right. There was nothing illegal about what they were doing. His father had made sure they had clearance with the authorities. But in his heart and deep in his soul, Davin knew it was unethical. It wasn’t who he wanted to be.
He would miss Clare. And he would even miss the city. But it would be good to get a new start. Here he was following in the steps of his older brother. It had been more than fifteen years ago when Seamus had to leave town in a hurry.
And what did his brother do? He joined the United States Army.
Davin walked past an office and was ten steps beyond when he returned and glanced at the poster in the window. It made a plead for healthy men to enlist in the 69th Irish Battalion. There was an ink drawing of a harp framed with clovers.
He laughed. It was perfect. Redemption would come swiftly, be it by glory or bullet.
Another thought came to him as well. One that surprised him. Someone else was serving the Irish boys in that regiment.
Someone who had captured Davin’s imagination. But why would he be thinking of Muriel at a time like this? Was it because she was Irish and reminded him of being back home? Was it because she was a unique woman who was unflappable in this world dominated by men?
Or was there a vulnerability in her, a mysterious yearning, a search for purpose and acceptance they both shared?
Whatever the reason, her face gave him hope. She had something genuine to offer in his life that had become such a fraud. In some strange way, she offered a cleansing of his conscience.
But there was much to do before he left.
Chapter 27
Rumors of War
Taylorsville, Virginia
March 1863
The Seed Festival was one of Taylorsville’s most fancied occasions. For more than thirty years, farmers from all over the neighboring valley would come to celebrate the planting season. To Ashlyn, this was always one of the highlighted events of her youth.
As she observed Grace knitting with several of the town’s women, Ashlyn worried of how her daughter’s childhood memories would be tarred with the fear and anxiety of war. What terrible stress this young generation had been subjected to in these difficult times!
Ashlyn walked over and admired Grace’s handiwork. She had learned so much in her short time in the Shenandoah Valley and was growing up to be a fine young woman.
“That’s lovely, dear.” Ashlyn touched Grace’s shoulder.
Grace looked to the work of the other women and grimaced. “I am so desperately slow at this. Look what they have all done in the same amount of time.”
“You’re well ahead of where I was at your age,” Coralee said, who was sitting beside Grace.
Ashlyn grabbed a chair and sat with them, so the three were in their own small circle. “You shouldn’t be so critical of yourself, Grace. You are so talented.”
“It’s true.” Coralee winked. “It’s one of the many things Anders says he appreciates about you.”
“Dear Coralee.” Ashlyn reached over to a small table where there was a pitcher of lemonade and poured herself a glass. “You know I don’t approve of you stoking those fires.”
Coralee laughed. “I am afraid the flames are burning well enough on their own. Isn’t that right, young Grace?”
Her cheeks burned bright red and she held back a smile. “Have you heard from him?”
“Who?” Coralee lifted a spool of yarn from the table. “Who would that be? I am not allowed to even discuss the issue.”
“Oh, Coralee, you are beyond hope.” Ashlyn took a sip of the lemonade. “Ooh.” She put her hand to her lips.
“Those will pucker you
well.” Coralee lifted her glass and took a sip herself. “Ooh wee is right. Fletch brought those in last night.”
“Well?” Grace put her needles down.
Coralee took another sip. “Well . . . if I was allowed to discuss it, I would inform you that my son, the handsome Anders Fletcher, did mention you in his last letter. But since I haven’t been . . .” She made a motion of zipping her lips.
Ashlyn laughed. She had fashioned a warm friendship with her meddling friend. Since Seamus had left, both Coralee and Fletch had become their caretakers. “Really, Mrs. Fletcher. Now that you have tortured my poor daughter so needlessly, you might as well complete the task.”
The woman leaned forward, as if she was about to share some scandal. “Yes, then this being the case, I will tell all. Young Anders asked about the beautiful Grace several times throughout his letter.”
“He did?” Grace’s green eyes sparkled. “What did he ask? Please, Mrs. Fletcher, tell me everything.”
Coralee put a finger to her chin. “Well now, let me recall it. Yes, he inquired as to whether you got your horse yet.”
“Is that so? What else.”
“And . . . he asked if we would bring some wildflowers to you on his behalf.”
Ashlyn reached over and took Grace’s knitting from her lap. “Let me repair a few of those loops for you. Go ahead, Mrs. Fletcher, as the banks of the river are well overflowing now.”
“Then he also wondered as to why you were not writing him.”
“What?” Grace’s jaw dropped. She looked to her mother with accusatory brows.
Ashlyn cleared her throat. “Well, it’s not unusual for letters to get delayed or lost. Mail delivery in times of war is quite suspect.”
“Ma!”
She was caught. Ashlyn sighed. “I am sorry. It was terrible of me. I promise, we’ll get them posted this week. All twenty of them.”
“There weren’t twenty.” Grace lowered her head. “And that’s horrible of you.”
“What would your father do? That’s the question I always ask of myself.”
Grace shrugged. “I suppose . . . he wouldn’t approve.”
“Then maybe,” Mrs. Fletcher interjected brightly, “we’ll just let Anders correspond to you through our letters. What about Seamus? What has he written?”
The question drew pain for Ashlyn. Her husband wasn’t much of a letter writer, and the couple she had received read more like a newspaper. “He seems to be doing well enough, I suppose. As well as one would expect in these circumstances.”
Music started, and they looked over to see a fiddler standing on a crate jabbing his bow as a few people started to gather around him. This was about the time the wind shifted and the smell of the pig roasting filled the air.
“Do you suppose it’s proper for all of us to be celebrating like this, you know with what all is going on?” Grace squinted from the sun which was shining in her direction.
“I think it’s a fine thing for us to take our thoughts away from war, if only for a day.” But as these words came out of her mouth, Ashlyn looked over to Callie Fernsley, who had already lost two sons in the war.
“Celebrate we must.” Coralee picked up the pitcher of lemonade and refilled all of their glasses. “And soon, I believe we will have much more to cheer about.”
“Oh, Coralee.” Ashlyn swatted at a fly buzzing around her ear. “I wish I shared some of your optimism for the progress of this war.”
“Don’t believe me then. Believe Fletch, who is the worst of all pragmatists. He’s heard from some dependable sources.”
“You mean the smugglers and moonshiners?” Ashlyn interjected.
“Indeed. You would be surprised what a soldier will share for a nip of hooch.” Coralee lowered her voice. “I hear word our General Lee is now pushing up north. With all of his victories, he’s got the gumption now to give the Yanks a bit of their own measure. See how they feel with enemy boots marching on their own fields. Why if they make it up to New York, you can consider this whole conflict settled.”
“I certainly wish that would be so. Anything that would bring our boys back home.” Ashlyn knew better than to mention this out loud, but if the rebel army made it up to New York, it would put Seamus in a precarious situation. He would not participate in anything that might put Clare at risk. He would draw that line. As it was, it grieved him not being able to correspond with his family up north. This war was tearing apart much more than just a nation.
A banjo player and a man with spoons joined the fiddler, and now a few of the women and old men were beginning to move to the music.
A voice came from behind them. A familiar one. “May I have a dance?”
Colonel Percy Barlow, in full uniform with polished brass buttons, stood with his hand extended to Grace. She looked to Ashlyn for rescue.
Ashlyn stood to her feet and the knitting dropped onto the dirt. How had she ever been so enamored with this man? The mere sight of him now made her ill. Was he different in his youth? Had the rigors of the army turned him into a much different man? Or was it she herself who had changed?
Coralee stood as well and gripped his hand in both of hers. “Why Colonel Barlow, our own dear Percy. What brings you here? What news do you have from the front?”
He retracted his hand and fixed his gaze on Ashlyn, his eyes probing deep, as if looking for some trace of the feelings she once had for him. Then after an uncomfortable pause, he turned to Coralee. “I have just returned from Richmond and was in the company of President Davis himself.”
“Ooohh my, have you really, Percy?” Coralee fluttered her hand before her face.
“There is a great mood of hope among our leadership.” He returned his gaze to Ashlyn, which she avoided.
“What with all of the whipping you boys have put on them Yanks, it is no wonder the president is well pleased.” Coralee clasped his hand again. “But tell me, Percy, have you truly spoke with the president? And to think I scolded you when you were knee high. Perhaps you will forgive me for this.”
“As a matter of truth, I am here on behalf of President Davis. He requested I visit the people of the valley to share the president’s deep gratitude.”
“Well . . . well . . . Percy, I mean Colonel Barlow.” Coralee’s voice dripped with even more twang. “Why don’t you go about spreading some of those compliments with us?”
“I will.” Percy glanced around the gathering and he took advantage of the pause in the music and stood on a chair. “I am here to share encouragement with all of the farmers who are doing their part to feed our brave soldiers. President Davis wants you to know that the Shenandoah Valley, with its rich harvests provided by your labors, is one of our greatest assets in this conflict.”
This was met with applause and some hoots, and then the musicians began their next song.
“Isn’t that wonderful?” Coralee smiled at Grace. “Did you hear that, child? You are a war heroine.”
Percy straightened and faced Grace again. “Now, would the young lady favor a dance with the colonel?”
“Oh yes, please do.” Coralee stopped herself once she caught Ashlyn’s glare.
Ashlyn did all she could to gather herself. “Colonel Barlow, it is most kind of you to offer my daughter a dance; however, her heart is already given to a young man in the war.”
“I see.” He lifted his chin. “And does your daughter know who I am? If she did, maybe she would answer the officer’s request more favorably.”
It wasn’t just the words he was saying but the smugness in his face. All of Ashlyn’s maternal instincts were about to overcome her Southern sensibility. Still, she struggled to restrain herself. Would Grace be able to recognize herself in this man’s features? It would be confusing for her to know the truth. For all she could remember, Seamus was her father.
She must have understood Ashlyn’s di
scomfort, because Coralee became an ally. “Well, Colonel Barlow, you are one of the most impressive bachelors from Taylorsville. I am quite certain you will not struggle in finding a lady over there to dance.”
“Have you not yet told her?” Percy put his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Does she not have a right to know?”
“Know what?” Grace wrinkled her nose.
Ashlyn drew Grace in close to her. How would she ever be able to protect her daughter from her past? Was this a mistake to bring her back to Taylorsville? Surely, Ashlyn knew this would always be the great risk of their return.
“Has Seamus told her about me? Well?” Percy’s tone began to frighten Ashlyn.
“What about my father?” Grace’s body tensed.
“Why, my good Percy.” Pastor Asa made his way over. “What brings you back here to Taylorsville? Have the Federals surrendered already?”
Ashlyn’s shoulders relaxed as she had never confided to the pastor about Percy, but she always felt he somehow knew. She saw disappointment in Percy’s eyes, as his attempts to confront her were now thwarted.
“Good afternoon, Reverend. I am afraid it is too early to declare that kind of news, but progress does seem to be leading us in that much-desired direction.”
Pastor Asa put his arm around Percy’s broad shoulder. “Well, son, we must have you share your good graces with the rest of the townspeople. They will be so encouraged to hear more of your exploits.”
They started to walk away, and Percy looked back over his shoulder. “I will look forward to continuing my conversation soon, ladies. A fine day to you.”
Realizing her daughter’s gaze was upon her, Ashlyn forced a smile.
“What did he mean by all of that?” Grace was too smart and sensitive to let Percy’s intentions go unnoticed.
Ashlyn squared Grace’s shoulders to her and then brushed back her daughter’s light brown hair. “There are some people you must avoid. That man is one of them.”
Songs of the Shenandoah Page 17