Stowaway in Time

by Cathy Peper

  “I just need to rest up, eat some decent food for a change, and visit with my family.”

  “I’m glad you came,” Janet said. “We got to see Jesse a couple weeks ago, so this is quite a treat.”

  “I wish this damnable war was over,” Jack said. “Both sides thought it would end quickly.”

  Ian shook his head and piled eggs on his plate. “I could have told them differently.”

  “For all your loyalty to the South, do you still think the North will eventually prevail?”

  “They have greater resources, but I’m encouraged by Confederate wins back East. The Confederacy only needs to defend itself, where the Federals must defeat us.”

  “Exactly. I think the South will prevail. I should have joined the Rebels and Jesse could have signed with the Feds.”

  “What’s done is done. It only matters that we have fingers in both pies.”

  Jack scowled. “How will I be able to live in the South after fighting for the North?”

  “The real concern is where Missouri ends up. If she stays part of the Union, you claim the house, leaving me and Jesse out in the cold.”

  “And if the Confederacy wins Missouri back?”

  “Then I take up residence again. Either way, it’s only temporary. Either we all end up back in New Madrid or I sell the place and we start over somewhere new.”

  “I’d like to head west. Lots of opportunity there,” Jack said.

  “Are you serious?” Janet asked. “After all the work we’ve put into the house and farm? It’s our legacy.”

  “Janet’s right. We won’t give up Hickory Grove without a fight. But Jack’s got a point, too. As long as we have capital, we can put down roots anywhere. Maybe even go back to Scotland.”

  “You came to this country as a toddler, so don’t go on about the ‘old country.’ You probably can’t even remember Scotland.”

  “A man never forgets the country of his birth.” He turned his bright gaze towards Diamond. “You were born and raised in Missouri, right?”

  “Tennessee. I grew up in a small town on the river.” She stuck to the story she and Jesse had devised. If pressed, she would say it was close to Memphis, but she wouldn’t claim to be actually from Memphis since she wasn’t familiar with how the town looked in the nineteenth century.

  “Your family no longer owns the property?”

  “No, we lost if after my father’s death.” Again sticking to the made-up story. In actuality, her mother had held on to Diamond’s childhood home, but she didn’t own it in the 1860s. It hadn’t even been built yet.

  “Too bad. It would have been nice to increase our holdings.”

  Resentment surged as her father-in-law once again reduced her to dollars and cents, but she now knew it wasn’t personal. Ian judged every relationship by how much it would benefit him.

  After breakfast Janet suggested they pay a call on Amy.

  “Are you crazy? I only go there when I have to for Association meetings. Amy doesn’t like me. She thinks I stole her beau.”

  “You did.”

  “Not intentionally.”

  “Fine. I will go alone.”

  Diamond’s curiosity piqued. Janet hadn’t a lot of friends in the Association, because of Finn’s courtship, but some of her close friends had remained steadfast. Amy was not among them. Not only was she an ardent Rebel supporter, but she was too young to have formed a bond with Janet in childhood. Her reporter’s nose smelled a story. “No need. I’ve nothing better to do. I’ll go with you.”

  A couple hours later, they set out for the Verdine house. To Diamond’s surprise, Sarah did not accompany them. Amy was out in the garden when they arrived and a maid led them to her.

  Amy stood before an easel, painting a flowering dogwood tree in the yard’s corner. A flash of annoyance crossed her face when she saw her visitors, but she greeted them politely and instructed the maid to bring lemonade.

  She dropped her brush into a cup of water. “I practice my painting skills most mornings.” She stepped back and studied her work.

  Diamond preferred photography to sketching or painting, probably because she could barely draw a stick figure. Amy had captured a dreamy, impressionistic version of the tree and Diamond grudgingly admired it. “You’re very good.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t stop on our account,” Janet said. “I just wanted to ask you a couple questions.”

  Amy plucked her brush from the water, dried it on a towel and then swirled it into a puddle of blue on her palette. “What do you want to know?”

  “You’re friends with Beatrice. I wondered if she had heard from her sweetheart or if you had any news of Quantrill’s men.”

  Beatrice was the girl who had fainted at the Ladies Association meeting. Was Janet probing for news of Finn? Odds were against him having taken part in the attack.

  “I’m not sure I can trust you,” Amy said as she tinkered with the sky, deepening the shade of blue.

  “Are Quantrill’s men here? Yes or no. It’s not like I could do anything to harm them even if I wanted to. Which I don’t.”

  “Some of them made it this far, but not Beatrice’s beau. The Yanks shot him in the arm and he’s holed up near the border. She wanted to go to him, but her mother won’t let her. No one knows how bad it is. He could lose the arm.” Amy shuddered and returned the brush to the water. “Can you imagine? Beatrice says she will still marry him.”

  “Commendable,” Janet said. “I’m not sure what I would do if it happened to Finn.”

  “Diamond doesn’t get a choice if Jesse loses a limb. She’s already married to him.” Amy’s voice was saccharine sweet with an undercurrent of anger.

  “Here comes the lemonade,” Diamond said with some relief. “I’m parched.”

  The women sat on a stone bench under the dogwood tree and sipped their drinks. There was no more grisly talk about the war. Instead, they discussed the weather and the difficulty of buying new fabric since much of it was made up north. Diamond’s attention drifted as they dug into the intricacies of hoop skirts and the shape of sleeves. Even in the twenty-first century, she didn’t follow fashion. She dressed for comfort unless she was on camera, and then she left the details to her stylist.

  A bee, drunk on nectar, buzzed her head before alighting on a branch of the tree. At the edge of the yard, a bunny crept into view, saw them and froze, still as a ceramic yard ornament. A breeze caressed her neck and ruffled the curls Sarah had ironed into her hair. Her eyelids drooped, and she drank some lemonade, the sweet-tart taste pushing away her lethargy.

  “Is Jack one of them?” she heard Janet ask in an abrupt tone.

  “One of what?”

  “Quantrill’s men.”

  “How should I know?” Amy scowled. “I really need to get back to my painting before I lose the light.”

  “Thanks for the lemonade. We won’t keep you any longer.” Janet stood and motioned for Diamond to rise.

  Diamond set her glass down and got to her feet. Still caught in a web of lassitude, she ambled out to the street with her sister-in-law. “Why did you ask about Jack?”

  “Timing seems too coincidental to me and Jack’s heart is with the South.”

  “Even if he deserted, surely he wouldn’t join the raiders.”

  Janet picked up the pace. “Who knows? Father will be livid.”

  “Are you going to tell him? You have no proof. You need to talk to Jack before making any wild accusations.” Diamond hurried to catch up. This had been the purpose of the visit and probably the reason they had left Sarah behind.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t do anything rash.”

  Not reassured, Diamond excused herself when they got home and retreated to her room to write to Jesse. What could she tell him, though? If she told him about Janet’s suspicions, it would only worry him, perhaps unnecessarily. She decided to just tell him Jack had come for a visit.

  She was deep into The Scarlet Letter when someone knocked
on her door. Before she could answer, it swung open to reveal her father-in-law. “You’d better come, too, since you’re part of the family.”

  Diamond slid off the bed, her stomach churning. She followed Ian into the parlor where Janet and Jack waited for them.

  “Jack, did you think I wouldn’t find out you were riding with Quantrill?” Ian asked.

  Jack crossed his legs at the ankle. “I planned to tell you when the time was right.”

  “And when would that be? When they brought you home slung over the back of a horse?”

  Jack jumped to his feet. “Think I won’t die in the regular army? Battle is not the only danger. We lose as many men to illness as bullets. I’m done risking my life for a cause I don’t even support.”

  “You had your orders.”

  “I left my post. I can’t go back now.”

  “You can’t come back here either. It pains me to do this to my oldest son, but you’ve left me with no choice but to disinherit you. I will not shelter you under this roof and if we hold on to Hickory Grove, you will no longer receive a portion of its profits.”

  Jack’s face turned white. “You can’t do this to me. You’ve raised me as your heir. I’ve always been your right-hand man.”

  “Until now. I was very clear about the role you were to play in this conflict. You’ve put your family in jeopardy.”

  Jack paced around the room, color returning to his face in angry red splotches. “I won’t stand for this. Jesse goes behind your back and marries a nobody and Janet abandons Hickory Grove and pines for that damn traitor, Finn, but you give them a free pass.”

  “I considered disinheriting Jesse until I realized the marriage wasn’t as ill-advised as I first thought. Diamond brings a modest dowry and wealthy connections to the family.”

  “And Janet, what’s her excuse?”

  “I had to flee New Madrid. Union officers took the house, Jack. Where was I to go?”

  “You think Jesse and I have been living in a house? No, we’re stuck in a tent, regardless of the weather. We march mile upon endless mile, our only reward the chance to be shot, stabbed or mutilated.”

  “I haven’t forgiven Janet, but she’s only a woman. I hold my sons to a higher standard.”

  “If we’re to be held to a higher standard, then we deserve a greater share of the estate.” Jack got up in Ian’s face. “I will fight this in the courts.”

  “Which court?” A gun suddenly appeared in Ian’s hand, though he must have pulled it from his coat. “Both the Union and the Confederacy are a little too preoccupied to concern themselves with petty family matters.”

  “Stop! Both of you.” Diamond rushed forward, stepping between the two men. “Ian, put that gun away. We can work this out.”

  “I know what to do,” Janet said.

  “I’ve already laid out the rules. Jack will leave and not return until the war is over. If we keep Hickory Grove, I might reconsider. If not, the issue is moot.”

  “You’re missing the obvious solution. I am now the only one with a Union connection. If I marry Finn, we can keep Hickory Grove in the family.”

  Ian slid the gun back into his pocket. “Finn won’t take you without a dowry.”

  “We use Diamond’s dowry.”

  “Absolutely not,” Diamond protested.

  “It’s not your money. It became Jesse’s the moment you married,” Janet said, a touch of bitterness in her voice.

  “Not true. I’m protected under our marriage contract.”

  Ian whipped around. “Jesse said nothing about a marriage contract.”

  Jack barked out a laugh. “Going to disinherit Jesse too?”

  “I want all of you out of my house. Don’t come back until dinner. By then I will have decided what to do.”

  “Father—”

  “Go. Now.”

  Twenty Two

  Chapter 22

  Wanting nothing to do with her difficult in-laws, Diamond turned down Janet’s offer to visit one of her friends and Jack’s suggestion that they drown their sorrows at the local bar. Sarah accompanied Janet. Cook offered to send a scullery maid with Diamond, but Diamond set off by herself. As she walked down the dusty street, she reveled in the quiet. For someone who habitually spent a lot of time writing and frequently engaged in stake-outs, she had missed time to herself.

  She’d wanted a sibling when she was a child, but being an only child might have been a blessing. Ian seemed to pit his children against each other like a nineteenth-century King Lear. She didn’t know how she would explain the situation to Jesse and supposed she needed to find out what Ian decided before she even made the attempt. So much for writing light, amusing letters to distract Jesse from the danger and monotony of army life. And perhaps worm a way into his heart. At this rate, he would dread getting letters from her.

  She gazed through the store windows as she walked. Little Rock didn’t have as many stores as St. Louis, but they sold all the necessities. The displays might have tempted her if she hadn’t just picked out her trousseau. The money Jesse had given her burned a hole in her purse and she fought against the urge to spend it before Ian got his hands on it.

  Her marriage contract prevented Jesse from disposing of her dowry without her consent, but was it enforceable? And could she hold out against her father-in-law if he applied pressure? If he laid a hand on her, she vowed she would follow the drum, regardless of the danger. She would never again allow a man to hurt her.

  She passed the bank and considered going in for advice, but she didn’t trust the male bankers and wished she could talk to Ari or Victoria.

  Her ground-eating stride had brought her near the end of the business district. Turning, she headed back the way she had come until she stood in front of the office of the Arkansas State Gazette. Taking a deep breath, she pulled open the door and went inside. Two rows of desks book-ended a table in the center of the room. From somewhere in the back came the clang of the printing press. The buzzing of voices and the smell of ink slapped her in the face. There was no film crew, but she was back in a newsroom.

  “Can I help you?” asked a man sitting behind a desk near the door.

  “I’d like to write for the paper,” she said. “I worked for a paper in Missouri before moving south.” Hopefully, under the circumstances, they wouldn’t ask for references.

  The man eyed her dubiously. “Because of the shortage of men, we have taken on a few women, but circulation is down and I really don’t think the owner is looking to hire anyone else.”

  Diamond had heard that song and dance before. “I’ll work freelance. Submit articles for sale.”

  “We accept a few freelance articles.”

  “Is the editor in?”

  “I’m the chief editor.”

  Diamond stuck her hand out and almost introduced herself as Di Merrell. She caught herself at the last second. “Mrs. Diamond Weber. Pleased to meet you.”

  “Charles Decker.” He shook her hand, all the while eyeing it like it was a snake. “Will your husband allow you to work here?”

  “My husband is away at war. I don’t need his permission.”

  “All the more reason you should follow his wishes…” His voice trailed off under the heat of Diamond’s glare. “Not that it’s any of my concern.”

  “Exactly. Good day, Mr. Decker. I’m sure we will work well together.” She sashayed out of the office, allowing her hoops a bit of extra swing. It might not be TV, but Di Merrell was back in business.

  * * *

  As the days grew longer and hotter, Jesse’s wool uniform grew more unbearable. The men complained while on the march and when building fortifications in camp. The odors of latrines, unwashed, sweaty bodies and the smoke of cooking fires hung in the air. Jesse longed for the clean earthy smell of the fields back home and the sweet aroma of apple pie sitting out to cool. Most of all, he wanted to go home to his wife, the spirited beauty who challenged him at every turn.

  If he survived the war, would the
y be able to make their marriage work? He hoped so, and not only for the dowry she had brought. He was glad he’d avoided marriage to Amy or any of the other young women in his social circle. He had nothing against Amy. She was pretty, wealthy, well-connected and passionate in her devotion to the Southern cause, but there was no spark between them. He couldn’t imagine going on the run with her. Would she have found the strength and courage to cross Reelfoot Lake, eerie with the remnants of drowned forests sticking up out of the water? Somehow he doubted it.

  He hoped Diamond was safe and comfortable in Little Rock. His father wouldn’t make it easy for her, but she was tough. Too tough for her own good. He hadn’t received any letters recently, but his division had been on the move, covering more ground in the last few weeks than he cared to remember. He had the blisters and sore muscles to prove it.

  They finally made camp on the river and it appeared they would be here for a while, judging by the extent of the fortifications they were building. He and Cole had plans to go swimming with some other men once they were off duty. Jesse still disliked water and would stay near the bank, but the lure of cooling off outweighed his distrust of the unknown swirling depths. It was a small river, more of a creek. Not the Mississippi.

  Cole was ready by the time Jesse returned to his tent. He had already stripped off his heavy jacket and wore only trousers and a shirt. Jesse gratefully doffed his own coat and stretched his aching shoulders. He’d been digging all morning.

  “Hurry,” Cole said. “I can’t wait to get rid of all my dust.”

  “Likewise,” Jesse agreed, but tension tightened his throat. He should have followed his father’s advice and learned to swim, but after nearly drowning as a child, every time he got in over his head, panic overcame him. He followed Cole to the river where several of their fellow soldiers already frolicked.

  Cole dashed in while Jesse took it easy. He sighed at the cool kiss of the water, almost too cold at first. Cole ducked under and came up shouting, spraying water all around as he shook his head. Jesse continued to feel his way forward, avoiding areas where the riverbed fell away. He’d nearly reached the center of the river when he caught sight of another group of men on the other side of the river, a few hundred yards away.