Columns of Cottonwood

by Sandra Robbins

  Copyright

  ISBN 978-1-60260-486-5

  Copyright © 2010 by Sandra Robbins. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of Truly Yours, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., PO Box 721, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.

  All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.

  Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

  One

  August 1871

  Outside Willow Bend, Alabama

  A low, musical rumble like distant thunder drifted through the afternoon quiet. Savannah Carmichael paused before climbing into the buggy outside her aunt’s house and listened. The familiar sound floated from the direction of the river.

  The horse hitched to the buggy jerked up his head and whinnied at the deep-pitched drone. Jasper Green, her aunt’s handyman, stroked the horse’s back and grinned. “There’s the whistle. The Liberty Queen done docked. I ’spect we’s be seein’ lots of folks flockin’ to town.”

  Savannah nodded and stepped into the buggy. “I’m sure the merchants will be glad to see the passengers come ashore. They always spend a lot of money.”

  Excitement washed over her as it did each time she heard a steamboat arrive. The Montgomery Belle, the Carrie Davis, the Liberty Queen, the Alabama Maiden—she knew them all and recognized their distinct whistles.

  Today she’d get to see the Liberty Queen, because her route would take her by the landing. She never tired of watching the passengers from the big paddle wheelers walk from the boat up the hill to the small port town of Willow Bend, Alabama. Her mind would whirl with all sorts of visions as she imagined herself a passenger in unfamiliar locations and disembarking with enough money to buy whatever her heart desired.

  She smiled. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful to sail away on a steamboat and leave all our problems behind?”

  Jasper pushed his tattered straw hat back and gazed up at her. “You’d just have to come back sometime, Miss ’Vanna. Besides, it takes money to ride boats, and I doan think we’s seen much of that ’round here lately.”

  She laughed, smoothed her long skirt, and reached for the reins Jasper held. “Not since the war at least. But one day that will all change, Jasper. I just know it will.”

  “Yas’m. That’s what you been sayin’ for a long time now, but I ain’t seen no taxes being paid.”

  A sigh rippled through her body. “No, not yet, but I have faith God’s going to provide us with the money somehow.”

  Jasper shook his head. “I hope you right.” He patted the horse’s flank and glanced up. “Miss ’Vanna, why doan you let me drive you today? It jest ain’t fit’n for a lady to be drivin’ by herself. I be more’n glad to go wit’ you.”

  Savannah let her gaze wander over Jasper, and her heart warmed at the kindness in his face. He had been given to Aunt Jane by her father as a wedding present, and Jasper had dedicated his life to taking care of his mistress. Even when he was granted his freedom, he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

  Now with her parents dead, he was taking care of her, too. Savannah leaned out the side of the buggy and patted Jasper’s shoulder. “You’re so good to us, Jasper, but I’ll be fine. I should be back long before supper.”

  Jasper frowned and backed away from the buggy. “Be careful when you goes down Main Street. Them folks gittin’ off dat boat doan pay no ’tention to where they’s goin’.”

  Savannah laughed and tightened her grip on the reins. “I know what you mean. I saw a man and woman step right in front of a wagon the last time the Maiden docked.”

  “You jest keep a keen eye out for ’em.”

  “I will.” Savannah cast a glance back toward the house. “I left Aunt Jane resting. I don’t think she’s feeling well today. Will you check on her after a while?”

  Jasper’s eyes clouded with concern at the mention of his mistress. “Yas’m. I ’spect I best go do that right now.”

  Savannah flicked the reins and headed down the street toward the docks. With any luck, passengers would still be getting off, and she would get a look at the people traveling the Alabama River in luxury.

  The August sun bore down on her as she rode down the dirt street that ran in front of Aunt Jane’s house. Dust, stirred by the horse’s hooves and the buggy, boiled up around her. The last three months had been hotter than usual, and she welcomed the coming of fall’s cooler temperatures.

  Of course there was no place she’d rather live than in the Black Belt of Alabama, so named because of the rich, black soil that extended along the Alabama River. She might dream of traveling on one of the big paddle wheelers that stopped at Willow Bend, but she would always be drawn to the cane-brakes and farmland that lay along the twisting river.

  Her lifestyle had certainly changed when the war began. The once lush fields of Cottonwood had returned to the wild when most of the slaves left, and money had been nonexistent. In the years following the war, her father had been content to sit on the veranda and dream about the past, but that, too, came to an end two years ago when a fire took the house and her parents’ lives. Now at twenty years of age, all she had was a deserted plantation with years of unpaid back taxes, but she didn’t worry about that. No Southern gentlemen would buy another’s land for the back taxes. It was an unspoken code of conduct.

  She thought of Aunt Jane’s two-story whitewashed house where she’d lived since the death of her parents and how different it was from what she’d known all her life. It had come to be home, but it would never be Cottonwood. That’s where her heart lay and where her parents were buried.

  At the end of the street, Savannah guided the horse through a left turn and headed for the docks. As she approached the landing, she glanced toward the river and the boat moored at the shore. Its white sides glittered in the sun, and crew members hurried along the three decks. Smoke still poured from the two tall stacks near the front as dockworkers loaded waiting goods aboard for shipment to upriver ports.

  In the midst of the bustling activity, passengers walked across the gangplank and headed up the hill. In front of her, people already strolled across the street. One woman held a white ruffled parasol over her head to shade her face from the hot sun. As Savannah drew closer, she could see the delicate lace that covered the umbrella.

  She squinted and tried to get a better look at the woman. Rows of ruffles draped the back of her blue traveling dress, and its hem swept across the dusty street.

  Lost in thought about the elegant lady, Savannah pulled her gaze away and screamed in terror at the sight of her horse bearing down on a man in the middle of the street. He looked around in surprise and jumped back out of the path of the buggy.

  The horse, sensing danger, reared on its hind legs as she tugged on the reins with all her might. In the same instant, the man leaped forward and grabbed the horse’s harness. He struggled with the animal while she continued to pull on the reins. After a few tense moments, the horse quieted.

  When he was able to release his hold on the harness, the man stepped to the side of the buggy and stared up at her. A frown lined his face. “Are you all right, miss?”

  Savannah stared into eyes the color of ink. They widened for a moment as she gazed down at him, and she almost gasped aloud at the murky depth she sensed in his gaze. Not only were his eyes dark, but so was the hair sticking out fro
m under his felt bowler. His bronzed skin bore evidence of long hours outdoors, but his calloused hands caught her attention. He might be traveling in luxury, but he wasn’t one of the idle rich. This man was used to hard work.

  She shook her head to clear her thoughts. “I’m fine, but what about you? I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you.”

  He smiled, and his white teeth offered a stark contrast to his dark features. “It was my fault. I wasn’t watching where I was going. I’m sorry to cause you trouble.”

  She glanced at the steamboat. “Are you a passenger?”

  He nodded. “I was, but Willow Bend is my destination.”

  Savannah tilted her head and studied the man. Willow Bend was just a stopover on the upriver or downriver routes. It wasn’t anyone’s destination. “Are you visiting someone?”

  He chuckled. “No. I’ve bought some land, and I’m settling here.”

  She glanced past him to the boat. “Is your family traveling with you?”

  He shook his head. “I have no family.” His gaze traveled over the stores along the street. “Maybe you can help me. I need to rent a horse. Where is the livery stable?”

  She pointed in the direction she’d just come. “Go down this street, and you’ll see it on the left.”

  He tipped his hat and backed away from the buggy. “Thank you. Maybe we’ll meet again.”

  The horse snorted and pawed at the ground. She wrapped the reins around her hands. “I’d better be going. I hope you like living at Willow Bend.”

  His eyes sparkled. “I’m sure I will.”

  Savannah snapped the reins across the horse’s back. As the buggy surged forward, she chuckled. No family meant he didn’t have a wife. The presence of a new eligible bachelor in town should stir the local female interest. She could hardly wait until Sunday to see if he showed up at church.

  ❧

  Dante Rinaldi stood in the middle of the street and watched the buggy disappear in the distance. He’d never seen anyone as beautiful as the young woman he’d just encountered. Her blond hair shimmered in the summer sun, and her blue eyes reminded him of the water off the Gulf Coast.

  He wondered how old she was. Perhaps twenty but no more. She was at least ten years younger than he. Her beauty reminded him of what his life had lacked since his parents’ deaths sixteen years ago. Each waking moment had been dedicated to work and saving his money for the day he would buy his own land. He’d never had time for love, and now he feared it was too late. He might never find what his parents had treasured.

  However, all his years of hard work had paid off, and even better than he thought. He closed his eyes for a moment and thought back to the trip from Mobile to Montgomery before the war, when he’d first seen the plantation homes along the bluff near Willow Bend. One had caught his attention, and it was the memory of the grand house and its columns that had motivated him to work even harder.

  Never in his wildest dreams had he dared hope the mansion and its land could be his. Now it was. Or what was left of it. Someday the land would be the great plantation it had once been, and the house would be restored and even larger than before. All it would take was hard labor, and he knew how to do that.

  With a smile on his face, he turned in the direction the young lady had pointed. The first thing he had to do was rent a horse and go take a look at his land.

  ❧

  An hour later, Dante pulled the horse to a stop at the edge of what had once been a well-manicured lawn that rolled down the steep bluff in front of an imposing mansion. Now with the area overgrown with thick weeds and brambles, the view of the river was almost blocked.

  Underneath him the horse twitched with restlessness, and he leaned forward to pat her neck and whisper in her ear. His gaze returned to the eight, smoke-streaked columns that towered above him, the only remnants that remained of the great house. The clerk at the courthouse had told him there had originally been thirty-two of the forty-five-foot Corinthian columns lining the four sides of the home. All but the eight front ones had been destroyed in the fire that consumed the house.

  Dante closed his eyes, and for a moment he envisioned the house as it was when he first glimpsed it from the river. Gone now was the mansion with its balconies that circled the house. He remembered a young girl standing on the second floor beside one of the columns and waving to the passengers on the boat. Perhaps she died in the fire that took the lives of the owner and his wife.

  “Evenin’, suh. You needs some he’p?”

  The quiet drawl surprised Dante, and he swiveled in the saddle. A man with skin the color of chocolate stood next to one of the columns. His fixed stare told Dante the man harbored a protective attitude toward his surroundings.

  Dante dismounted and tied the horse to a birch tree still standing in the yard. He walked toward the man, who hadn’t moved, and extended his hand. “I’m Dante Rinaldi. I just bought this land.”

  The man’s eyebrows arched, and he licked at his lips. “You done bought Cottonwood?”

  Dante nodded. “That’s right. The plantation’s mine, all one thousand acres of it.” The man still hadn’t taken his hand, and Dante let his arm dangle to his side. “Do you live around here?”

  A look of fear crossed the man’s face, and he glanced over his shoulder. “Me and my woman, Mamie, we lives in the same cabin we al’ays had when Mistuh Vance be here.”

  Dante frowned. “You didn’t leave when you were given your freedom?”

  The man shook his head. “No use us a-doin’ that. We doan have no place else. So we stayed and he’ped out.”

  “But what about after the owner died?”

  He shrugged. “Nobody tole us to leave.” His lips trembled. “I ’spect you be a-wantin’ us gone now, though.”

  Dante looked at the muscles bulging under the man’s tattered shirt and recognized strength in his arms and shoulders. But it was the sadness in his eyes at the thought of leaving his home that touched Dante’s heart.

  “Tell you what,” Dante said. “I’m going to be needing workers here. Would you consider staying on as a tenant farmer? We could work the land together on shares, and you could have a plot of ground to grow your food and keep some animals. Maybe a cow or two and some hogs.”

  The man’s mouth gaped open. “I sho’ would like that, and I be a good worker for you. I got me two boys, and they strong. My Mamie, she works hard, too.”

  Dante held out his hand again. “Then why don’t we shake on it, and we’ll work out the details later, Mr. . . . I don’t think you ever told me your name.”

  Unable to pull his stare from Dante’s hand, the man reached out and grasped the outstretched fingers. “Saul Clark, suh.”

  “Well, Saul, I’m looking forward to working with you. Where’s your cabin?”

  Saul pointed over his shoulder. “Out yonder in the old quarters. We still be in the one we al’ays lived in.”

  “Is there an empty one I can stay in?”

  Saul’s eyes widened. “Suh, you gwine live in slave quarters?”

  Dante laughed. “It doesn’t look like there’s any other shelter around here. One of the cabins will be fine until we can build something better for both of us.”

  Dante didn’t think Saul’s eyes could get any bigger, but they did. “Both of us? You mean we gwine build somethin’ for me and Mamie, too?”

  “Of course. The land has plenty of timber on it. We might as well put it to good use.”

  Saul’s legs twitched, and Dante thought he might jump up and down. “I’s got to go tell Mamie the good Lawd done answered our prayers.”

  Dante laughed. “You do that. I want to look around a bit, and then I’ll come on to your cabin.”

  Saul turned and ran, leaving Dante smiling at the retreating figure. He’d thanked the Lord, too, when he found out he could purchase Cottonwood for the back taxes, but he didn’t think his happiness could start to compare with what he’d seen on Saul’s face.

  Dante turned and looked back toward the
river. The first thing he wanted to do was clear out the saplings and all the growth that had sprung up. He wanted the view open so he could sit outside on quiet nights and watch the Alabama River roll by his land.

  Now he wanted to walk across the soil he had purchased. Maybe then he’d really believe his dream had come true.

  He glanced to the right, and to his surprise he spied a path that ran along the edge of the bluff. Vegetation didn’t cover the lane, giving it a traveled appearance. He strode toward it and headed along the bluff on the path.

  After walking about two hundred yards, the river swung to the left, and the path veered away from the water. As he rounded the bend of the trail, he stopped in surprise at the sight of a buggy ahead, the horse tied to a tree. Treading as lightly as possible, he eased around the buggy and stopped in astonishment at the sight of a white fence surrounding a small cemetery. Tall water oaks shaded the area where five or six tombstones protruded from the ground.

  A woman knelt between two of the graves. She leaned forward, and he could hear her whispered voice. He strained to understand the words, but they were too soft.

  “Excuse me,” he called out.

  The woman sprang to her feet and whirled to face him. Fear etched her face.

  Dante’s breath gushed from his body as if he’d just been kicked in the stomach. The woman facing him was the one who’d almost run him down in Willow Bend.

  Two

  Savannah could hardly believe her eyes. The stranger she’d encountered in town had followed her. Now she was at his mercy.

  She took a step back. “Leave me alone, or I’ll cry for help.”

  The man’s lips twitched. “You may have to holler really loud. Saul went back to his cabin.”

  She looked around for an escape route, but the man blocked her path. “You know Saul?”

  “Yes.” He moved closer. “Please don’t be afraid. You surprised me as much as I did you.” He smiled, and in that gesture she realized he meant her no harm. She relaxed.

  “My name is Dante Rinaldi. I think we met earlier in town.”