The Whistle Walk: A Civil War Novel (Ironwood Plantation Family Saga Book 1)

by Stephenia H. McGee

  Sometime later, when the sun had risen well into the sky, Charles sat in an upholstered chair and pulled on his boots. “You may redo the rooms however you like. I care only that I shall share a bed with you each night.” He shot her the charmingly boyish grin that undid her.

  “I shall strive not to make it too womanly.”

  He chuckled. When he finished tying his cravat, he came to sit beside her on the bed. “Grant is moving 17,000 troops to Iuka, supposedly to keep Price from joining with Van Dorn.”

  Lydia nodded, not sure what to do with the information but knowing it weighed heavy on him.

  “The Union troops in Corinth won’t leave. They will continue to hold the city because it will cut off major supplies from Memphis to Charleston and from Mobile to Ohio. Those railroads are too important.”

  Lydia sat up in the bed, pulling the blanket up around her bare chest and tucking it under her arms. “Is that why the Confederates are going to go take it back?”

  “Yes. But also because the rumors say it will not be long until the Yankees push farther south. If they come from Corinth, it is not long until they will be on top of us.”

  Lydia swallowed hard. Charles cupped her face in his hand. “Do you not see why I will have to fight? We have to keep them from coming south. To Ironwood.”

  She pressed her face into his hand and willed her voice to be steady. “I do understand. It is only my fear that makes me speak against it.”

  “I promise, my love, I shall return to you.”

  Resolve filled her chest. She looked deep into his eyes. “And I promise you shall have an Ironwood to return to.”

  September 5, 1862

  Ruth carried the pitcher of warm water up the back stairs and walked down the hall. She was so lost in thought that she knocked on Miss Lydia’s door and waited for several seconds before remembering it’d been two weeks since she’d last slept in there. She continued down the hall to the master’s room and tapped on the door. Her stomach clenched. Despite Mr. Harper’s kindness, she still didn’t like it that most mornings he’d barely risen from bed when she came. It made her uncomfortable, but at least he’d been clothed.

  “Come in!” Miss Lydia’s voice carried through the door like a summer bird’s chirp.

  Ruth balanced the porcelain pitcher in one hand and opened the door with the other, pleased to see that Mr. Harper had already gone. “You sound mighty happy this mornin’.”

  Miss Lydia sat at her vanity, now moved to sit against the wall near the hearth, brushing her long hair. Ruth wondered at how white women’s hair felt as soft as corn silk. She poured the water into the basin.

  “I’m going to have a ball,” Miss Lydia said, examining near-invisible wrinkles at the corners of her eyes.

  Ruth put the pitcher down and wiped her hands on her white apron. “You? You wants to throw a ball?”

  Miss Lydia shrugged. “Nothing big. It’s mostly an excuse to see my parents and have some company while I still can.”

  Ruth felt a small pang but ignored it. Miss Lydia needed time with her own people. “That sounds mighty nice then.”

  “I want us to go to town and get some apples. I want to make turnovers.” She turned to look at Ruth, her eyes bright.

  Ruth raised her eyebrows. “In the kitchen?”

  “Where else do you suppose I make them? The parlor?”

  Ruth laughed. “You know Betsy would have a conniption fit with someone messing ’round in her kitchen.”

  Miss Lydia shrugged. “So she can help us.”

  “You mean Betsy, me, and you is going to work in the kitchen together?”

  “Yes. I mean that exactly.”

  “Ha! Better not let Lucy know. She’ll be fit to be tied.”

  “Do you think she’ll want to help?” Miss Lydia looked genuinely concerned she’d left Lucy out of her peculiar plans.

  “Nope. She’ll just be mad you is in there with us.”

  Miss Lydia made a humph sound. “Well that’s just too bad. Mother loves apple turnovers, and I know how to make them the way she likes. I’ll not be denied the kitchen because it makes Lucy uncomfortable.”

  “I got no doubt ’bout that.” Ruth giggled and pulled a green dress from the armoire. “This one good for town?” She looked down at her own dress, another of Miss Lydia’s, and marveled at how comfortable she’d grown in such finery. Her day dress was no different than her mistress’s. What would folk in town think?

  “Yes, it will do fine.” Miss Lydia went behind the screen to wash and put on her undergarments—all six pieces of them, including the silk hose for her legs. How she didn’t die of heat stroke, Ruth couldn’t fathom. She still had a two-piece dress to put on over all those layers.

  Miss Lydia’s voice came from behind the dressing screen. “I need you to get one of the men to bring me my trunk that I brought from Cedarwycke. I don’t know where they stored it,” she said, the sounds of rustling fabric muffling part of her words.

  “Yes ma’am. I’ll see’s that it gets done. You plan on going on a trip somewheres?”

  Miss Lydia emerged from behind the screen and pushed the half-closed heavy curtains completely back from the window. “There. That’s better. No. I am not going anywhere.”

  Ruth held up the corset, and Miss Lydia lifted her arms to have it wrapped around her.

  “So then what you needs that trunk for?”

  “Storage.”

  Ruth shook her head. “All right.” She yanked hard on the laces.

  “Ouch! Don’t make it so tight.”

  “Sorry.” Ruth let her take a big breath and push the whale bones out a small measure. “I still ain’t used to these things.”

  Miss Lydia glanced over her shoulder and wrinkled her nose. “At least you don’t have to wear them.”

  After Ruth had made a decent arrangement out of Miss Lydia’s hair and had seen her to breakfast, she went down to the barn to ask Noah for a carriage. When she neared, she found little Johnny perched on the hitching post, studying something in his hand.

  “What you got there?”

  His head jerked up, and he lost his balance. He started to tumble forward, and Ruth reached out and grabbed his shoulder to steady him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  He grinned. “That’s all right.” He held up his treasure. “Look here at what I found!”

  A beetle squirmed between the boy’s fingers, its hard, black body shiny in the morning light.

  “That’s a mighty fine beetle you got there.”

  “Ain’t it though? Look here at this big horn its got.”

  Ruth looked closer. “A grand horn for sure.”

  The boy beamed. “Is you here to see Noah?”

  “Yes. You is a smart boy, huh?”

  He turned serious, cupping the bug between his little hands. “I know Noah likes to see you. He don’t quit smiling for hours after you been around.”

  Ruth’s heart fluttered. “That so?”

  His brows knitted. “Yeah. But he don’t tell me why. You tell him some funny stories or something?”

  Ruth chuckled.

  His face lit up. “You think you can tell me one of ’em?”

  The doors slid open, and Noah poked his head out. His gaze fell on Ruth, and he grinned. “I thought I heard talking out here. Mornin’ Miss Ruth.”

  She dipped her chin. “Mornin’ Noah.”

  Johnny looked back and forth between them. “Ya’ll look at each other funny.”

  Heat crept into Ruth’s face, and she looked away. Noah chuckled. “Boy, why don’t you find somewhere for that bug and get to work on them stalls?”

  Johnny’s bottom lip stuck out. “Oh all right. But I want to know what story she done told you when I get done.”

  He jumped from the hitching rail and ran into the barn. Ruth looked up at Noah. He tilted his head. “What story he talking ’bout?”

  She shrugged. “Mrs. Harper wants a carriage to take to town today.”

  Th
e sun beamed down on Noah’s wide shoulders and glistened across his brow. He certainly was handsome. Darker than any man she’d ever seen, his skin was the color of the night sky. More than the nice lines of his face and strength that stretched his shirt in a pleasing way, it was the lightness and joy in his eyes that drew her most.

  “You got a good soul, Noah of Ironwood,” Ruth whispered surprised she’d let her thoughts slip through her lips.

  He grabbed her hand and pressed it to his heart. “I’d be good to you, Ruth.”

  She nodded, feeling the rapid pace of the thumping in his chest. “I do know it.”

  “I been wanting to ask you something. I know it might be fast but with this war and—”

  “Good morning everyone, I… oh.”

  They both whirled around, Ruth dropping her hand and stepping back from Noah.

  Noah spoke for her, allowing her a quick chance to recover. “Ma’am. I’m sorry. We didn’t hear you.”

  Ruth drew in a long breath but couldn’t cool the heat burning in her ears. A smile pulled at the corner of Miss Lydia’s pink lips, her gaze darting between Ruth and Noah.

  “No, I apologize,” Miss Lydia said. “I did not mean to interrupt.”

  Noah cleared his throat. “Forgive me ma’am. I got carried away talking and hasn’t got that carriage hitched.”

  Miss Lydia waved her hand. “Nothing to fret over. I am in no hurry.” She smiled at Ruth, and Ruth wanted to sink into the ground. “I can wait in the garden.”

  She twirled around and walked off. Ruth and Noah stared at each other.

  “I best be going,” Noah said.

  Ruth nodded, not trusting herself to speak. He disappeared into the smells of horseflesh and hay within the barn. What had he been about to say? Ruth put a hand to her heart. It didn’t matter. She had to remember that he didn’t plan to stay.

  Ruth waited until he came around with the carriage and then fetched the lady. They climbed inside, Noah’s hand holding hers just a little too long as he helped her up. They’d made it all the way down to the main road before Miss Lydia spoke, destroying Ruth’s feeble hope she’d let the topic go.

  “So, is there anything you wish to share with me?”

  Ruth took her gaze from the passing trees and focused on the woman across from her. “No.”

  Miss Lydia raised her eyebrows. “You’re not going to tell me anything about that? I know when I see two people smitten with each other.”

  “Ain’t nothing that can come of it.”

  “Why not?”

  “It just can’t.”

  Miss Lydia studied her for a long moment. “Very well. But know this. It isn’t the same. The love of a good man can mend the wounds left by evil ones.”

  Tears burned at the back of her eyes, and she blinked them away. “I’ll remember that.”

  Ruth turned the subject to apple turnovers, asking Miss Lydia how she’d learned to make them and thereby keeping her occupied for the rest of the trip into town.

  When they arrived, Miss Lydia stopped in the bakery for a few pastries, which she tucked away in her large bag, and then chose to walk the short distance to a cart outside of the general store where a man had barrels of apples.

  “Brought these all the way down from Virginia, ma’am. Sweetest apples you’ll find.”

  Miss Lydia lifted one of the shiny red fruits and studied it. Ruth let her focus wander and watched people gathered around a paper nailed to a post. Most likely another list of the dead. Ruth turned from their tear stained faces.

  The breeze churned the dust up from the street, coating the ladies’ colorful dresses with its reddish grime. It was right over there that Byram had whipped her. She turned her head back to the apple man.

  “But that’s an outrageous price!” Miss Lydia said, her eyebrows nearly up to her bonnet.

  The man lifted his narrow shoulders. “I’m sorry ma’am. But them apples had to go through three lines of Union blockades. Takes a fair amount of bribe money. You won’t find no better price for them.”

  Miss Lydia wrinkled her nose. “Very well. But I won’t be able to get as many as I’d hoped.”

  He packaged the purchase, and they walked back in the direction of the carriage. Up ahead, people grumbled, and a few older men, remnants of those who hadn’t already left for battles, began to shout out insults.

  Miss Lydia glanced over her shoulder at Ruth, who’d stayed the proper two paces behind her. Ruth lifted her shoulders discreetly. They made their way through the thickening crowd and found two Union soldiers mounted on big horses near the end of the street.

  Miss Lydia gasped. Ruth stepped up beside her but said nothing. Union soldiers in Oakville was a bad sign. Real bad. Miss Lydia seemed frozen to her place. Ruth tugged on the sleeve of her dress. “We need to go,” she said in a hiss.

  “What? Oh. Yes. Let’s get home.”

  They found Tommy alert in his seat, watching the restless movements of the people eyeing the men with bayonets held across their chests. What were they doing? Just looking at the townspeople? Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

  They climbed into the carriage, and it lurched forward before they’d even gotten settled in their seats.

  Miss Lydia fiddled with her skirts and didn’t speak the entire way back to the big house. She was probably thinking the same things as Ruth, and neither wanted to talk about them. When they neared the house, a black carriage pulled by a pair of white horses stood parked in front of the steps.

  “Daddy! Oh, they’re early!”

  Miss Lydia scrambled out the door before Tommy could make his way around to the side of the carriage. Ruth stepped out slowly, coming to stand just behind her mistress.

  “Daddy! I did not expect you until tomorrow.” She threw her arms around the old man’s neck, more excited than Ruth had ever seen her. Miss Lydia soon gathered herself and adjusted the big ruffled hat on her head. “Mother. It is wonderful to see you. We’ve just come from town, buying fresh apples.”

  The thin woman with the very serious face glanced around. “We?”

  “Oh. Yes, well, I took my maid along to help me.”

  The woman flicked her cold blue eyes toward Ruth briefly and then ignored her. Ruth dropped her gaze to the ground and clenched her jaw.

  “Ruth, send for someone to unload the apples and take them to the kitchen. I will send down instructions on how I want the turnovers prepared.”

  Ruth nodded and walked into the house, hearing the woman behind her exclaim, “Oh! You are making apple turnovers?”

  Ruth clenched her fists. No. She doubted Miss Lydia would be making treats any longer. For all her talk of things at Ironwood being different, things were always the same.

  Ruth went to do as she was bid, trying not to let the bitterness in her heart poison her.

  September 6, 1862

  Ruth dusted the bookcase on the left while Lucy dusted the one on the right. With Miss Lydia’s mother here, the house was in a flurry of activity. Seemed nothing was good enough for that woman. Ruth would be glad when she left.

  “We got to do them windows, too,” Lucy said, arching her lower back to stretch out the same soreness Ruth felt in her own. “Mrs. Cox says they ain’t clean enough for company.”

  Ruth wrinkled her brow. “I think they is plenty clean. She just likes bossing folks around.”

  “Shhhh!” Lucy hissed. “What if someone hears you?”

  Ruth sighed. “Mrs. Harper acts different when her mother is here.”

  Lucy lifted herself onto her toes and wiped the top of the shelf. She’d have to do Ruth’s side as well since she was the only one in the house who could reach it. Well, except for Mr. Harper, but he certainly wouldn’t be dusting up there.

  “Don’t matter. We got to do what they say anyway.”

  Ruth pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “Do we?” she whispered.

  Lucy spun around and stared at her. “What you mean?”

  She shook her head a
nd dropped to her knees to get the lowest shelf clean. “Nothing.”

  “See here? This is one thing I mean. All this idle chatter.” Mrs. Cox’s voice came around the bottom of the steps just ahead of the woman herself.

  Ruth cringed. Had they heard what she’d said? Her heart beat faster. No. Couldn’t be.

  “You heard them talking and whispering in here. Not doing as they should. This house is already lacking. If you don’t tighten down on these things, they will soon get away from you.”

  Ruth risked a small glance up to see Miss Lydia’s pale face. “Yes, Mother.”

  Ruth ground her teeth and scrubbed harder.

  “You can’t take your eyes off of them for a minute. They are inherently lazy. As soon as they think they can get away with it, they fall slack.”

  “Now, Mother, I haven’t found that to be tru–”

  “You are still new. Trust your mother. You can be naïve, daughter. I simply aim to aid you.”

  Miss Lydia grimaced. “Yes, Mother.”

  They walked from the room with shoes clicking against the floor Ruth had just polished.

  Ruth glanced at Lucy. She shook her head. They returned to dusting.

  A knock at the door startled them both. Ruth rose to her feet. “I got it.”

  She opened the door to a man in a gray uniform with his slouchy hat pulled low over bushy straw-colored brows. “I am here to see your master,” the man said briskly.

  Ruth straightened to her full height. “Mr. Harper be entertaining company. You’ll have to wait ’til I ask if he will see you.”

  The man frowned at her. “Very well. Tell him Lieutenant Monroe needs to speak with him.”

  Ruth shut the door. Lucy gaped at her. “What’s wrong with you?”

  She pushed past Ruth and pulled open the door. “Forgive her, sir. She’s green. Won’t you come on in and take some refreshment in the parlor? I’ll get you some tea whilst she runs after Mr. Harper.”

  The man strode in without a word, and Lucy glared at her. Ruth hurried to the back of the house to go up the servant’s stairs because Mrs. Cox had announced it wasn’t proper to use the main staircase.

  She knocked softly on the study door.