Columns of Cottonwood
Page 2
She nodded. “Yes, we did. Did you follow me here?”
His lips parted, and a deep laugh rumbled from his throat. “No. I was walking along the river. What are you doing here?”
She felt more at ease, so she pointed to the tombstones. “I’m visiting my parents’ graves.”
His eyes clouded, and he frowned. “Your parents?”
“Yes. I’m Savannah Carmichael. My parents, Vance and Amelia, are buried here.”
“Your parents were the owners of Cottonwood?” Surprise laced the words.
She walked through the gate of the white fence surrounding the cemetery and latched it. “The house burned two years ago. My parents died in the fire, but I was able to escape by sliding down one of the columns from the second-floor balcony.” She stopped in front of the man. “Did you say your name is Rinaldi?”
He swallowed. “Yes.”
She tilted her head to one side. “That’s an unusual name.”
“I’m Italian.”
She smiled. “You don’t speak with an accent. Have you lived in America long?”
He nodded. “All my life. My parents came to this country before I was born. I grew up in the Mobile area.” His dark eyes seemed to bore into her.
“When I almost ran you over, I thought you told me you had no family.”
He shook his head. “I don’t. My parents died of yellow fever.”
She sighed. “I’m sorry. We have yellow fever outbreaks quite often, too.”
“So I’ve heard.”
She started to question him further about his reasons for choosing Willow Bend but decided she’d already been too inquisitive. “I’m sorry to be asking so many questions. I’m sure you’ll like living here. You’ll have to come to church next Sunday and meet all the people who live around here.”
“I’d like that.” His gaze shifted away from her, and she noticed a drop of perspiration trickle down his cheek.
A warning floated somewhere in the recesses of her mind. Why was he here on her land? She should have questioned him more before she lapsed into conversation with him.
She frowned and gazed up at him. “You haven’t told me where you’re going to live.”
He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the perspiration that now seemed to be popping out all over his face. “I’m going to live here.”
His answer made no sense. “What do you mean? Along the river?”
“No.” He bit at his lip and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I had no idea you were Savannah Carmichael. I didn’t know any of the Carmichaels were still alive.”
Her heart began to pound in fear. She knew she was about to receive news that threatened everything she held dear. “What are you trying to tell me?”
He exhaled. “I bought Cottonwood yesterday at the courthouse in Selma.”
She heard the words, but she couldn’t believe it. A stabbing pain ripped at her heart. “You can’t have Cottonwood,” she cried. “It belongs to me.”
“The taxes haven’t been paid in years. The county had the right to sell it.” Sympathy lined his face, but she refused to acknowledge it.
She doubled her fists and advanced on him. “But I was going to pay the taxes and come back here to live. You can’t do this to me.”
He backed away. “I’m sorry, Miss Carmichael. I didn’t mean to cause you any hurt, but Cottonwood now belongs to me.”
She raised her hand to strike him, but she hesitated. Violence had never solved anything. She should know that after seeing what the war had done to her parents and their plantation. She stepped back and glared. “Well, you can’t have it. It’s supposed to pass to my heirs. Not some Italian carpetbagger who takes advantage of other people’s misfortunes.”
His dark eyes flashed. “I’m not a carpetbagger. I’ve worked for years to get enough money to buy some land. Now I have it. I’m sorry for your problems, but they aren’t of my making.”
Her chest heaved as she turned, climbed into the buggy, and grabbed the reins. “This isn’t the end, Mr. Rinaldi. I intend to get Cottonwood back.”
He reached out and grabbed the horse’s reins as he had done earlier in town. “Until you do, Miss Carmichael, please feel free to visit your parents’ graves anytime you want. Cottonwood will always welcome your visit.”
She bit back the retort hovering on the tip of her tongue, snapped the reins, and turned the buggy in a circle. With a heavy heart, she guided the horse down the path toward the ruins of her home.
At that moment, the whistle of the Liberty Queen rumbled from the river. She glanced at the sleek paddle wheeler churning its way through the winding channel. She hoped the cargo headed to the upriver ports would be more welcome than what the steamboat had delivered to her. She’d convinced herself this day would never come. Now it had, and the last remnant of her old life had been snatched from her grasp.
As she passed the charred columns, tears rolled down her cheeks. Cottonwood would be hers again. She didn’t know how, but it would.
❧
With supper over, Aunt Jane leaned on Savannah’s arm as they made their way into the sitting room. Savannah eased her aunt down on the sofa and watched her scoot back into the cushions and settle her long skirts around her.
Savannah took in the faded dress her aunt wore and the threadbare brocade of the couch. Even if it had been six years since the end of the war, everyone she knew was still trying to recover the lifestyle they’d lost in that great conflict. Sometimes Savannah wondered if life would ever be the same again. At the moment, it didn’t appear it would be for her.
Savannah settled on the floor at her aunt’s feet and laid her head in the portly woman’s lap. “I can’t believe it,” she sobbed. “Cottonwood is gone.” She’d spent most of the mealtime wiping away tears with her napkin.
Aunt Jane reached down and stroked Savannah’s head. “But, darling, you knew the plantation could be bought by paying the back taxes.”
Savannah straightened and stared at her aunt. “Not by somebody like him. He’s not even a Southerner.”
Aunt Jane frowned and picked up her fan from the table next to the sofa. “But, my dear, I thought you said he was born and raised in Mobile. The last time I checked, that was a part of the South.”
Savannah waved her hand in dismissal of her aunt’s words. “You know what I mean.” She shivered in distaste. “I can remember how upset Poppa was when we heard that the ironworks in Selma had fallen to the Yankees and they were raiding the city. We thought they’d come to Cottonwood, but we were spared when they turned back to Montgomery. Now there’s an Italian, a foreigner, living there. And on land that should belong to me.”
Aunt Jane touched Savannah’s lips with the still-closed fan. “You’re faulting him because of his birth? Talk like that is not worthy of you. Remember, we are all God’s children.”
Remorse filled Savannah’s heart. “I know. I suppose I’m just so shocked to think that someone stole my plantation right out from under me. I believed that God was going to answer my prayer and provide the money to pay the taxes.”
Aunt Jane took hold of Savannah’s arms and tugged until Savannah rose and sat on the couch next to her. “And how did you think He would do that? I hope you weren’t expecting your friend Jonathan Boyer to give you that kind of money. He’s only interested in making Oak Hill Plantation productive again.”
Savannah blinked in surprise. “Why, Aunt Jane, you sound like you don’t like Jonathan.”
“I liked his mother, but I had no respect at all for his father. Any man who would treat his slaves like that man did is a disgrace to the human race. I never understood how your father could be friends with him.”
“Poppa was a dreamer, Aunt Jane. He loved everybody and didn’t believe anything bad about his friends.”
Aunt Jane sighed, and sorrow flashed on her round face. She reached for Savannah’s hand. “I know, and he let Cottonwood fall apart.”
Savannah nodded. “I think the
war took the heart out of him.”
Aunt Jane touched a lace handkerchief to her nose and sniffed. “We all suffered during the war, maybe the Boyer family more than most. I doubt if Jonathan will ever get over being a prisoner of war at Fort Lookout Prison. That must have been an awful experience. Then to finally come home and find out his brother was killed at Gettysburg and both of his parents had died. . .” Aunt Jane paused and shook her head. “He’s not the boy we knew, Savannah.”
“I realize that, but you know Poppa and his father wanted us to marry and join the two farms.”
“Humph! I don’t put stock in folks telling you who to marry. My pa didn’t want me to marry my Timothy, but I knew he was the man for me. I was right. I’ve watched you and Jonathan together, and I know you don’t love him. At least not like I loved my Timothy.”
Savannah couldn’t help but smile. “I don’t have too many choices around here. When you take into account how many young men died in the war and how many have left the county looking for a better life, there aren’t many eligible men. There’s certainly no one left who interests me. I don’t think I’ll ever marry.”
Aunt Jane shook her head. “You don’t need to unless you love someone so much that you hurt from wanting to be with him. That’s the only reason to marry.”
Savannah stood up. “Well, I don’t ever see myself feeling like that. Maybe you and Uncle Timothy were the exceptions.”
Aunt Jane rose to stand beside her. “No we weren’t. There’s someone like that for you. Give the good Lord time to show you.”
Savannah looped her arm through her aunt’s as they walked toward the hall staircase. “Well, if I ever do marry, I won’t be living at Cottonwood, because it’s been bought by Mr. Dante Rinaldi of Mobile.”
Aunt Jane patted her hand. “The plantation may be gone, but you’re still alive. And who knows what great things God has planned for you? Don’t limit Him, Savannah. Let Him show you what wonderful things He has waiting for you.”
Savannah leaned over and kissed her aunt on the cheek. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She glanced at the steep stairs. “Do you want me to help you upstairs to bed?”
Aunt Jane shook her head. “I can still climb my own staircase. You check things before you retire. Make sure all the lamps are out.”
Savannah watched her aunt make her way to the second floor of the house and disappear into her bedroom. Walking back to the sitting room, she blew out the lamps until only one was left lit.
She picked it up and studied the flickering flame. The small light held her captive and seemed to grow into a larger blaze the longer she stared at it. A burnt smell drifted up the lamp’s chimney, and she closed her eyes.
“No, I don’t want to remember,” Savannah moaned. “I don’t ever want to see anything like that again.”
❧
Dante sat on the bluff and gazed across the rolling water of the Alabama River. With a contented sigh, he stretched out on the grassy bank, cupped his hands behind his head, and lay down. The stars twinkled brighter than he thought he’d ever seen. Maybe it just seemed so because this was a special night—his first on his own land.
He’d dreamed of this for years. At times he’d think it was in his grasp only to have it vanish like a vapor. Now it was real, and he’d never been happier. At least he told himself so.
Savannah Carmichael’s anger still troubled him. It had never been his intention to let his dream destroy another’s, but according to her, that’s what had happened.
She’d lost so much—her parents, her home, the very existence she’d always known. In some ways, he knew how she felt. He’d lost everything, too, but a man could bury his grief in his work. For a woman, he doubted it was that easy. He hoped she would consider his offer to visit Cottonwood. That might help her some.
“Suh, you all right?”
Saul’s voice from behind startled him, and he jumped to his feet. Saul held a tin lantern with a candle in it. The circle of light from it revealed the man’s worried face. Dante chuckled and brushed off his pants. “I’m fine. I was just listening to the river.”
Saul nodded. “It sho’ can be mighty peaceable lis’nin’.”
Dante stretched. “I guess it’s getting late. I’d better retire if we’re to get an early start tomorrow.”
Saul tilted his head to one side. “What we gwine be doin’?”
Dante headed toward the house with Saul beside him. “I think we’ll go into town for supplies. Tell Mamie to decide what she needs from the store, and I’ll get it for her. We also need to purchase a wagon and some horses. Maybe a cow if we can find one. And tools.”
Saul stopped and stared at him. “We gwine buy all that?”
Dante nodded. “There’s lots to be done at Cottonwood, and the sooner we get started, the better.”
Saul shook his head in wonder. “I ’spect this ’bout the bestest day of my life.”
Dante smiled. “Mine, too, Saul. Mine, too.”
❧
Savannah stepped inside the general store and glanced around. “Mr. Perkins?”
“Just look around. I’ll be right with you.” The owner’s voice drifted from the room in the back.
“I’m in no hurry,” she called out. Just as long as I get out of here before Martha Thompson arrives, she thought.
She’d come early in hopes of arriving before Martha or any of the other women in town. The news had probably already spread across Willow Bend that Cottonwood now belonged to someone else, and she couldn’t bear the pitying glances she’d have to endure. Not yet, anyway.
She set the basket of eggs on the counter and waited. After a few minutes, Mr. Perkins walked from the back of the store. He smiled and wiped his hands on the long apron he wore. “Sorry, Miss Carmichael. I wanted to finish storing some of them tools that came in on the Liberty Queen yesterday.”
The mention of the steamboat reminded her of what she’d desperately been trying to forget. She pushed the basket forward. “Aunt Jane sent me with these eggs to sell.”
He peered at the contents of the basket. “Good. I need these today. I’ll put them in the back.”
He turned to leave, but the bell above the door jingled as someone entered the store. “Be right with you, mister. Make yourself at home.”
“Take your time.”
Savannah froze at the sound of the voice. She would recognize the deep tone anywhere. Slowly she turned and stared into the smiling face of Dante Rinaldi.
“Wh–what are you doing here?”
Dante’s brow wrinkled as his gaze roved over her. “The same as you, I suppose. How are you this morning, Miss Carmichael? Better than yesterday, I hope.”
Her face burned, and she wanted to run from the store. She couldn’t until Mr. Perkins came back. She straightened her back and clasped her hands in front of her. “I’m very well, thank you, for someone who has just been robbed of everything she had left.”
If her words produced any guilt on his part, he didn’t give any indication. A sad smile curled his lips. “I hope someday you’ll come to see that was never my intention.”
“I hardly expect that will happen.”
He nodded. “Maybe not. But remember that I invited you to visit Cottonwood anytime you wish. I would never keep you from your parents’ graves.”
She arched an eyebrow and stared at him. “Thank you for that at least.”
“Good. Then I’ll expect to see you there.”
At that moment, Mr. Perkins returned from the back room. “I have the amount I owe you figured up, Miss Carmichael.”
She grabbed the basket from his hand. “Please apply it to our account. I’ll be back with more eggs later in the week.”
Without waiting for a reply, she brushed past Dante Rinaldi and hurried out the door. She stopped outside and took a deep breath. Running into the new owner of Cottonwood had been the last thing she’d expected this morning.
“Miss ’Vanna. How’s you doin’?”
He chuckled. “Hit ain’t mine, Miss ’Vanna. Hit belongs to Mistuh Dante.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “What are you doing with it?”
Saul’s chest expanded with what Savannah thought must be pride. “I’s workin’ for Mistuh Dante now. He gwine give me money for workin’ the land. Ain’t that somethin’?”
Savannah’s mind reeled from the second surprise of the day. How could Saul and Mamie desert her? Tears sprang to her eyes. She opened her mouth to spew out her disappointment at Saul’s betrayal. Then she remembered how Saul had served her father, even when he was free, and how he’d watched over her all her life, how gently he and Mamie had tended her burns the night of the fire. She could never act spiteful to this dear man who’d been so devoted to her family. She sighed and brushed her hand across her eyes.
“I’m happy for you, Saul.”
He leaned over the side of the wagon. “Cottonwood gwine be a grand place a’gin, Miss ’Vanna. Jest you wait and see. Mistuh Dante, he a good man.”
Savannah’s lips trembled. “I’m happy things are working out for you. Give Mamie my love.”
Saul and Mamie’s lives might be improving, but hers seemed to grow worse with each passing day. She clasped the straw basket tighter and hurried down the street. She had to get to Aunt Jane’s house. It wouldn’t do for the residents of Willow Bend to see her crying.
Three
Savannah sat underneath the towering oak trees behind Aunt Jane’s house and tried to concentrate on the book she held. Ever since her early morning encounters with the new owner of Cottonwood and with Saul, she’d been restless. She’d hardly touched her noon meal and had come outside to get some air after Aunt Jane lay down for an afternoon nap.
With a start, she realized she had not turned a page in at least ten minutes. Her thoughts kept returning to Dante Rinaldi. Every reasonable thought told her she should hate the handsome Italian, but for some reason, she couldn’t. Maybe it was how he had returned her anger with kindness. It had been gracious of him to invite her to visit her parents’ graves.