High Hearts

by Rita Mae Brown

  Sin-Sin wore a string of briars around her neck to keep the chills off. As an added precaution, she put red peppers in her shoes. She enjoyed the Bible readings. If Gideon could have himself a passel of wives, she could have herself a passel of husbands. Sin-Sin liked men. She had sense enough to keep this happy idea to herself ever since Lutie had lost her delight in the male sex two decades past. Sin-Sin walked through the hallway thinking what a pity that was. God made men and women to enjoy one another, and Lutie just closed down, pulling in the shutters.

  Loud cursing in the kitchen brought Sin-Sin and Lutie running. Geneva and Di-Peachy had disappeared after the morning lesson.

  “Miz Lutie, Miz Lutie, I been mocked!” Ernie’s eyes bugged out, making her look like a locust.

  “What seems to be the problem, Ernie June?”

  “I finds a rat. Well, I cleans that up.” Of course, Boyd cleaned it up. Ernie wouldn’t touch the thing. “Now I finds half my ham gone. The one I cured with brown sugar! My cookies been et up! I won’ stan’ for it!”

  Lutie, senatorial, said, “I don’t blame you for a moment, Ernie. I have no idea how a rat found its way into the kitchen.”

  “Horrible. Head chewed to bits!”

  Lutie flinched a bit. “How awful for you, Ernie June.”

  Ernie lapped up the sympathy.

  “As for the foodstuffs, I believe Geneva must have gotten up in the middle of the night. You know how terrible yesterday was for her. She didn’t eat a morsel. She probably couldn’t help herself.”

  “Coffee on my new stove!”

  “I’m sure you understand, Ernie. These little moments happen to all of us.”

  Ernie, having vented her spleen, settled herself. “Poor thing, losin’ her man without hardly knowin’ him.”

  “Maybe she’s better off,” Lutie blurted out.

  Both Sin-Sin and Ernie June laughed. Then they saw one another laughing and stopped.

  “Girls, don’t you dare repeat a word I just said.” Lutie’s hand flew to her mouth.

  Naturally, Sin-Sin and Ernie June would tell every other woman on the place. A comment like that was too good to keep to oneself.

  “Not one word,” Ernie promised.

  “Uh-huh,” Sin-Sin agreed.

  Nash’s clothing dotted the room. Geneva and Di-Peachy searched for items Geneva could wear: socks, underwear, shorts. Geneva wanted to ride off this instant. Di-Peachy hammered some sense into her head. She had to talk to her mother, no matter how much she wanted to avoid it.

  As Geneva was six feet tall, taller than her husband, his pants came slightly above her ankles. The shirts fit.

  “I’ll go into town and see if I can’t get parts of a uniform, anyway. I can get a cap. They cost two dollars.”

  “How do you know that?” Geneva asked.

  “Sumner.”

  “I’m still mad that everyone kept their preparations from me.”

  “They thought it best.”

  Geneva pulled her boots out of the wardrobe. “Better take two pair.” She sat on the floor and scanned the debris. “Let’s pick this up and then cut my hair.”

  Di-Peachy cried as each lock of thick hair fell from Geneva’s head. Geneva wasn’t fazed. “Stop crying. It’ll grow back.”

  “Hair is a woman’s crowning glory.”

  “I’m not a woman anymore.” Geneva smiled.

  “I don’t think that’s funny. You could get killed.”

  “I can also die getting out of bed in the morning! Keep cutting.”

  While doing as she was told, Di-Peachy continued to talk. “You could have at least waited until after you told your mother. This will kill her, Geneva.”

  “No, it won’t. She’ll run upstairs or walk out to the back meadows and unburden herself to Emil. For the first time in my life, I’m grateful to Emil!”

  “Sometimes, Geneva, you can be cruel.”

  “Sometimes, Di-Peachy, you can be a pain in the ass.”

  “Your mother is very high-strung.”

  “My mother is soft as a grape.”

  “I don’t know how you can talk like that about your own mother.”

  “Since when do you walk on water? She’s never been warm to you. What do you care?”

  Di-Peachy considered this. Lutie was never ugly or hateful to her. She didn’t especially criticize but she didn’t praise. Di-Peachy wanted Lutie to like her. She never knew her own mother. No one, not even Geneva, could worm out of Lutie and Henley any information about Di-Peachy’s mother. For mothering, Di-Peachy turned to Sin-Sin. Sin-Sin and Geneva were her two points of emotional reference. Henley was kind but he was distant to everybody but Geneva. Di-Peachy answered Geneva’s question with another question. “What about your father?”

  “We won’t tell him.”

  “You expect your mother to lie to him?”

  “No, I expect her to say nothing to him. She’s been doing that for years.”

  “I hate to lie to him.”

  “Someone has to!”

  “The servants will talk.” Di-Peachy was stubborn.

  “No one will know but you. I’m not leaving this room except in the dead of night. Not even Auntie Sin-Sin will know. You bring Mother here. I’d rather talk to her in my house anyway. And when it’s dark, bring me Gallant and Dancer. I’ll ride out. No one will know the difference.”

  The last strand of long hair hit the floor. Di-Peachy worked another twenty minutes shaping Geneva’s hair. Finished, she put her hands on her hips.

  Geneva got up and looked at herself in the mirror. Stunned, she mumbled, “I look just like Daddy.”

  “Yeah, I guess you do.”

  Geneva inspected herself. She threw on Nash’s shirt. “I’ll pass. I’m going to do it!” She was jubilant.

  Di-Peachy felt wretched. “I think you just might.”

  That afternoon Di-Peachy collected what odds and ends she could from the ladies at Town Hall. She paid twelve dollars for a short jacket with yellow facings on the sleeve and collar to indicate cavalry. Jennifer Fitzgerald and the ladies had only made one greatcoat, so Di-Peachy bought it just in case. That put her back twenty-five dollars. She lied and said it was for Sumner. The shirts went for three dollars apiece, but Di-Peachy thought some of Nash’s shirts would suffice. The color combinations were as confusing to Di-Peachy as anyone else. Someone better come forward soon or Jennifer Fitzgerald and her seamstresses would write up army regulations for dress. Trousers were light blue and nine dollars. Di-Peachy figured two pair of Nash’s black pants would be as good as blue. After all, Geneva could tire of her charade and why be out all that money? Di-Peachy was naturally tight.

  She piled the goods in the light, two-wheeled gig, painted bright red and gold. When she picked up the reins and lightly touched the whip on Exeter’s brown rump, the little cart jerked upward and off they went. The town, quiet on a typical day, hummed with people. About one mile out of town and four from Chatfield, she spotted the enormous form of Big Muler walking alone on the road. She stopped for him.

  “Come on.”

  He squeezed all seven feet of him next to her and proceeded to stare at her. Peaches hated that so she chatted as best she could. “If I’d have known you were coming into town, I’d have given you a ride.”

  “Sin-Sin gave me an order for Reddy. Just pushed me right out the door. Don’t need no pass in the daytime. I likes that.”

  Di-Peachy agreed. At night, the servants needed passes to leave the estates. Patrollers, called patters, swept the county searching for wandering or runaway slaves.

  Big Muler, carved from obsidian, said nothing more. Di-Peachy realized that this giant was awestruck by her. For some strange reason, she wanted to laugh.

  While Big Muler reported to Sin-Sin, Di-Peachy dropped off the clothing at Geneva’s house. She then squared her shoulders, walked in the big house, and told Lutie that her daughter wanted to see her. Lutie thought it perfectly ridiculous that Geneva wouldn’t walk up the hill, but fin
ally she relented and strolled down to the house.

  As Lutie entered the small foyer, Geneva came down the stairs in her bits and pieces of uniform, her wrists sticking out of the sleeves.

  Lutie, speechless, beheld this apparition. Geneva looked like her father as a young man, just slightly more feminine.

  “Mother, I’m going to war.” Geneva took the offensive. “And, no, I am not crazy.”

  Lutie exploded, “In the house of the hanged man don’t mention rope, and what in God’s name have you done to your beautiful hair!”

  “I’m joining Nash. This way I can pass myself off as a boy.”

  “Your hair! Your beautiful hair!” Lutie almost said, “it’s the only beautiful thing about you, but she bit her tongue. Even in her shock she had some control. Lutie walked into the living room.

  Di-Peachy shrugged her shoulders at Geneva and followed after Lutie. “Miss Lutie, would you care for something to drink?”

  “A good stiff shot of gin would do wonders, thank you.”

  Di-Peachy retired to fetch the drink. Geneva, amazed at her mother’s sudden calmness, joined her in the front room. “I can’t live without Nash, Mother.”

  “So I gather.” Lutie folded her hands.

  “I love him. I never felt anything—”

  “You needn’t explain. I once loved your father like that.”

  The idea of Henley and Lutie sharing a passion as scorching and pure as Geneva and Nash’s seemed ludicrous to Geneva. She decided not to pursue that subject. Di-Peachy came in and handed Lutie her drink. She then excused herself.

  “I’m pleased you’re so understanding, Mother.”

  “I don’t know if I am. But I know I can’t stop you. I’ll be without my husband, my son, my son-in-law, and now my daughter.”

  “Sin-Sin’s here.”

  “Yes, thank God.”

  “And Di-Peachy.”

  Lutie squirmed. “I expect she’ll handle your affairs.”

  “She does, anyway. May she call upon you if she needs anything?”

  Lutie assessed her daughter then spoke crisply. “Why not? Haven’t I been good to her in the past?”

  “You’ve never really cared for Di-Peachy, Mother. She’s been my shadow since I was born, it seems.”

  “Let’s just say you can get but only so close to the help. You young people do things differently than we did. Sin-Sin and I are respectful of one another. I know what it’s like to feel gratitude and affection for a servant, but you and Di-Peachy act as though there are no boundaries between you. You must preserve your position, Geneva. Perhaps you’re too young to understand what position means.”

  “She’s my friend.”

  “She’s not your friend; she’s your servant.”

  “She’s my friend!” Geneva spilled over with anger. “I was never what you wanted, Mother. You wanted a beautiful, golden daughter. Look at me. I’m not very pretty, but at least it means I can join my husband. No one will mistake me for a lavish female.”

  Since Geneva brought it up, Lutie plunged in. “Beauty is a gift from God. Apparently He favored Di-Peachy over ail the women of the earth. One can neither take credit nor accept blame for beauty, but one can act like a lady. All you want to do is ride horses—and now that you have Nash, you follow after him like a penny dog.”

  “I love him!”

  “Good!” Lutie pounced on ‘good.’ “But let me give you some motherly advice, not that you’ll listen. Love makes the time pass and time makes love pass.” Lutie knocked back her gin. “When are you leaving?”

  “Tonight when everyone’s asleep.”

  “How will you find him?”

  “I figure he’s at Culpeper or Harper’s Ferry.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “Well, the wires said that we took Harper’s Ferry but the Federals destroyed the arsenal. Di-Peachy heard that in town this afternoon. I know Nash and Sumner rode north. So I figure they’ve got to be wherever there’s a good railway junction or some action. Besides, once I get on the road, all I have to do is ask.”

  “I see while I’ve been worrying, you’ve been thinking.” Lutie sighed, sounding like her sister Poofy. “I hope you come to your senses and turn around.”

  “I want to be with my husband, and I want to see what’s going on.”

  “You’re not afraid?”

  “No. I believe in Fate.”

  “So do I.” Lutie was surprised that she didn’t feel more surprised now that the jolt of seeing a shorn Geneva had worn off. “I suppose you don’t want anyone to know about this.”

  “No. I can’t take the chance of word getting out in my regiment, whatever regiment that might be.”

  “Your brother will recognize you.”

  “Let’s hope I recognize him first.”

  After twelve midnight, Geneva kissed her mother goodbye. Lutie had stayed at the house for the rest of the day and had even helped Di-Peachy pack Geneva’s saddlebags. Lutie retrieved one of Henley’s new Colt pistols from the big house. Mounted, Geneva looked like a cavalryman. She leaned over and kissed a crying Di-Peachy, then waved and rode off, swallowed by the faint light.

  Lutie started to walk up to the main residence but Di-Peachy asked her to wait. She got a lantern and walked Lutie up the hill.

  “Miss Lutie, I thought you’d put up a fight.”

  “Nothing could stop her. She’s in the grip of an emotion I’ve almost forgotten and you’ve not yet felt.”

  “Did she tell you about the Harkaway Hunt?”

  “No,” Lutie said, filled with curiosity.

  “The eve of her wedding we both saw the Harkaway Hunt, way in the back meadows just as you described it. The big man, Casimer, rode straight up to Geneva and said, ‘Each person you kill is a soul you must bear like an unseen weight.’ ”

  Lutie shuddered involuntarily. “First we saw the aurora borealis in the sky this winter and then that gigantic comet streaked across the sky and now I come to hear Casimer Harkaway spoke to my daughter. We’ve been given a talisman of insight and yet we can’t decipher it.”

  Di-Peachy silently walked alongside Lutie.

  “In highly intuitive beings, Fate and free will are the same thing. Never forget that,” Lutie said.

  Di-Peachy thought to herself that Fate was invoked to explain human stupidity. And then, too, it was always the weaker ones, the chattel of this earth, that believed in Fate so as to explain their misery. Not her. Di-Peachy was too arrogant and too young to know that Lutie wanted to give her something. She was also too rational to know that Lutie could see around corners.

  APRIL 19, 1861

  Geneva rode through the night. She pressed on toward Culpeper even as the cold dew drenched her and the horses. She had to get far enough away from Albemarle County so that when she enlisted, no one would recognize her. At sunup, exhausted, she spied a run-in shed. After unsaddling Dancer and Gallant and giving them enough rope to contentedly graze, she crawled in the shed with her blanket and went to sleep.

  “My father could sleep through the day like that. Don’t know how you can do it.”

  “Huh?” Geneva awoke.

  “Said, ‘Don’t know how you can do it.’ Me, I’m up at the crack of dawn. Fly out of bed like a barn swallow.” He dismounted by swinging his right leg over his horse and dropping to the ground.

  Blinking, Geneva beheld a scrawny fellow somewhere between thirty and fifty. His age would be anybody’s guess. A half-bald head encircled by a ring of curly brown hair gave him a jovial appearance. “Who are you?”

  “Banjo Cracker. Yourself?”

  “Gen—James, James Chatfield.” She took the first name that popped into her head, the name of her deceased little brother.

  “Good morning, James. Kin I call you Jimmy?”

  “Yes.” Geneva squinted at him. “I rode through the night. I don’t usually sleep this late myself.”

  “See your cap has cavalry colors. Aim to enlist, do you?”

&nb
sp; “Yes, sir, I sure do.”

  He smiled broadly. “Me, too. You’re a green little sprig. Don’t rightly know if they’ll join you.”

  Geneva threw off the blanket and stood up. She towered over Banjo. “They’ll join me.”

  Banjo measured from her toes to her head with his eyes. “Mebbe yes and mebbe no. You’re a big ’un, but you’re still a young ’un.”

  “I’m as good as anybody and better than most!”

  He laughed. “All right, boy, don’t git your feathers ruffled. I see your vanity is cut to your size. I hope they do take you.”

  She walked over to her saddlebags. Lutie had packed cheeses, smoked sausages, and bread. Geneva tore into the sausage, then remembered her manners and offered Banjo a bite.

  “Thank you, no.” He shifted to get his weight on his left leg. “I’d be joining the cavalry, too, but as you kin plainly see, I’m no gentleman. By the look of your horses I kin see that you are.”

  Geneva was taken aback by this. “Mr. Cracker,” she sputtered, “a gentleman is a gentleman from his heart. Money’s not so important.”

  He howled with laughter. “The world don’t think like you do, son. You ran away from home else you’d have a servant with you,” he slyly observed.

  Geneva was beginning to realize how hastily she had left. No wonder Lutie had let her go. She thought she’d be unmasked in the first twenty-four hours. It was only forty degrees, yet she started to sweat. “Well, I did go off in kind of a hurry.”

  “So I gathered. Afraid your momma would stop you?”

  “Well … uh …”

  “Don’t worry, I’m not going to send you back.” Geneva breathed obvious relief, making him laugh all the harder. “I do have a terrible price though.”

  She automatically put her hand in her pocket.

  “No, not that kind of price. First off, you write to your momma and tell her you’re safe and sound. You kin write, can’t you?”

  “Of course I can write.”