Columns of Cottonwood

by Sandra Robbins

  A walnut dresser with Savannah’s personal items on top sat against one wall. He gazed at the brush with a tarnished silver handle. Golden hair clung to the bristles. He picked it up and turned it slowly in his hand.

  His heart had almost stopped when Jonathan told her she could have had a home at Oak Hill and she replied she didn’t know that. If Jonathan had spoken earlier, Savannah might very well have married him. Dante gripped the brush tighter. Savannah was his wife now, and he was going to do everything in his power to make her happy.

  She might never love him, but perhaps she could become content to live with him at Cottonwood. Only time would tell.

  Nine

  Savannah could hardly believe that nearly four months had passed since her marriage, but all she had to do was look at the world around her to see the passing of time. Summer green had turned to autumn, which gave way to winter. The scarlet leaves of the dogwoods that lined the edge of Cottonwood’s forests now lay mingled on the woodland floor with the brilliant gold from the hickory trees she loved. Most days woodpeckers could be heard hammering at the hardwoods, but there was only silence today. Maybe they were resting, too, on the Sabbath.

  A chilling breeze rustled the bare limbs of the trees on either side of the road. Savannah pulled her coat tighter against the cold morning air and snuggled back into the buggy’s seat. Beside her, Dante guided the horse along the bumpy road that led to Willow Bend.

  Savannah glanced at her handsome husband and pulled the buggy robe over her legs.

  Dante gripped the reins with one hand and reached over to tuck the heavy covering more securely around her. “Is that better?” The slight smile she’d come to know in the months since their marriage played at his lips.

  She nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”

  He turned his attention back to the horse and took a deep breath. “I love crisp mornings like this. When January comes, I know it won’t be long until we can be in the fields and getting ready for planting.”

  “I know.”

  In the days since their marriage, they had developed a comfortable relationship. Most of their conversations centered on the land, spring planting, and the new house they would have before next fall, but that hadn’t been a bad thing. All in all, she and Dante had gotten off to a good start. He and the men worked hard all day, and he came home exhausted at night. No matter how tired he was, he always had time to listen to her day’s activities. Sometimes when she talked, his penetrating gaze would bore into her and take her breath away.

  It was times like that when she dreamed of romance. She supposed every girl wanted to be swept off her feet, but for her it hadn’t been that way. Now as she got to know Dante better, she had begun to wish for something more in their relationship.

  She sensed he was watching her, and she turned to meet his gaze. “What are you looking at in the woods?” he asked.

  “Nothing really, and then again everything.” She laughed at the absurdity of her remark. “I’m remembering the beautiful colors of fall that are gone and enjoying the winter landscape.” She pointed to the forest. “I thought the color of the leaves this year was the most beautiful I’d ever seen.”

  He smiled and flicked the reins across the horse’s back. “Maybe next year you’ll walk with me and show me your favorite spots.”

  Savannah’s heart thudded, and she looked at him. Her mouth felt like cotton. She tried to answer, but the words wouldn’t come. Before she could recover, the churchyard with buggies and wagons scattered about came into view.

  She straightened in her seat. “It doesn’t look like a very big crowd today.”

  Dante guided the horse into the churchyard and pulled to a stop. He jumped down, tied the reins to a tree, and walked around to face her. Extending his hand, he smiled. “Let’s see if the local residents are any happier to see me today than they’ve been in the past.”

  She gripped his hand and stepped to the ground. “I’ve told you to be patient. I thought last Sunday several more people spoke to you.”

  He chuckled. “I suppose you can say that. I thought I never would get away from Martha Thompson, but I had the feeling her conversation was more to find out something she could repeat to the townspeople the next day.”

  Savannah laughed. “I think you’re probably right, but I—”

  A loud voice rang out. “Savannah!”

  She and Dante spied Jonathan Boyer at the same moment. Dante tensed as Jonathan pulled his horse to a stop in front of them. Jonathan glared at Dante.

  “Jonathan,” she said, “I’m glad to see you’ve finally come to church.”

  He shook his head and climbed down from the horse. “I’m not here for services. I wanted to see you.”

  Dante stepped closer to Savannah. “I hope you know you’re welcome to visit Savannah anytime at Cottonwood, Mr. Boyer.”

  Jonathan’s lip curled into a sneer. “As if I’d set foot on ground you stole.”

  Dante’s fists clenched, and he sucked in his breath. Savannah laid a restraining hand on her husband’s arm. “Please, Dante, let’s not have a scene in the churchyard. Why don’t you go on inside? I’ll be right along.”

  He stared at her. “I don’t think you need to talk to him. I don’t trust him.”

  She waved her hand in dismissal. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve known Jonathan all my life. I’m perfectly safe with him.”

  Dante hesitated for a moment before he bit his lip and nodded. “All right. If that’s the way you want it.”

  He whirled around and strode across the yard. Savannah swallowed back the impulse to run after him. He looked as if her words had hurt him, and she didn’t want that. She turned back to Jonathan. “Now what do you want?”

  Jonathan rubbed the horse’s reins that he held. “Savannah, I’ve been miserable these last few months. I can’t believe what has happened to us.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Jonathan.”

  He swallowed, and Savannah detected moisture in his eyes. His shoulders slumped. “Please forgive me. I should have helped you more. Ever since the war, I’ve been so obsessed with getting Oak Hill back to what it was I forgot what our parents wanted. I should have figured out a way to get Cottonwood back.”

  She reached out and grasped his hand. “You can’t blame yourself for what has happened.”

  “But I do. Even when I knew you were about to leave, I did nothing. I stood back and let another man take what was rightfully mine.”

  Savannah gasped. “Cottonwood was never yours to have, Jonathan.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not talking about the plantation. I’m talking about you. I let that man take you away from me, and I did nothing. I should have married you.”

  Tears came to her eyes, and she wiped at them. “Don’t torture yourself like this. It wasn’t meant for us to marry. You didn’t love me, and I don’t love you.”

  He gritted his teeth and glanced at the church. “And do you love him?”

  His question stunned her. She’d barely known Dante when they married, and now she realized he was one of the kindest men she’d ever met. She respected him, but love had never been spoken between them. After four months of marriage, he was still sleeping in the main room, but he’d never complained. Still, she couldn’t deny the pleasure she received when his gaze swept over her or the way her heart thudded when she looked into his eyes.

  She took a deep breath and spoke. “He’s my husband.”

  Jonathan dropped the horse’s reins and grabbed both her arms. “Answer me. Do you love him?”

  From behind her, a voice called out. “Take your hands off my wife!”

  She turned to see Dante charging across the yard. Jonathan let go of her and tensed. Before he could step around her, she grabbed his arms. “Jonathan, please don’t cause any trouble here. Get on your horse and leave before something bad happens.” He glanced down at her, and uncertainty lined his face.

  “Please, go. Now.”

  He grabbed the rei
ns and swung into the saddle just before Dante reached them. “I’m leaving, but you haven’t seen the last of me.” He glared at Dante and then Savannah. “I didn’t think I’d ever see the day when a Southern woman would turn her back on her people for a yellow coward who wouldn’t even fight in the war. You deserve each other.”

  Jonathan pulled back on the right rein and dug his leg into the horse’s right side. The horse turned and galloped away. Savannah watched him disappear. Jonathan had never been the same after the war, but his behavior today bordered on insanity. He was one of the living victims of the war, and she had no idea how to help him.

  Fighting back tears, she turned to Dante. “Thank you for coming back.”

  “I was afraid he was going to hurt you.”

  She took a deep breath. “Let’s go inside. I don’t want anybody to know what happened here today.”

  As they walked beside each other on their way to the church, Savannah was very mindful of her husband’s presence. When Jonathan asked her if she loved Dante, she hadn’t answered, and she wondered what had kept her from speaking. Could it be that Dante had come to mean more to her than she realized?

  When they reached the church entrance, Dante grasped her arm to assist her up the steps. She glanced at him, and the look in his dark eyes sent a ripple of pleasure through her. In his gaze, she detected the unspoken promise that he would always be her protector.

  Her heart swelled, and she stepped closer to him. The truth that she’d put out of her mind for the past few months wouldn’t be ignored any longer. She didn’t know when it had happened, but she had fallen completely in love with her husband.

  ❧

  Dante could hardly concentrate on the sermon. His mind whirled with what had happened earlier. When Jonathan had grabbed Savannah, Dante thought he would go mad. He couldn’t stop himself from charging back.

  He had no idea what they had said to each other, but whatever it was, it had upset her. The look on her pale face made his muscles contract. When she’d become his wife, he promised himself he would protect her and take care of her as long as he lived. For him, there would never be another woman. He’d started to tell her many times how he felt, but he still hadn’t brought himself to do that. Maybe he would soon.

  With a start, he realized that the congregation had stood. He jumped to his feet and joined in the closing hymn. After the “Amen,” he grabbed Savannah’s arm and steered her from the church before any of the church members could stop them.

  When they were in the buggy and on their way home, he could stand it no longer. “Are you going to tell me what Boyer said to you?”

  She sighed. “It was just a repeat of past conversations. He feels like he lost what was his.”

  “Cottonwood?”

  “Yes.” She paused. “And me.”

  The words sliced through Dante. “You said your parents had planned for you to marry, but you never said you wanted it.”

  She sat up straighter. “I didn’t. I think Jonathan feels like he lost some kind of battle, and he can’t accept it.”

  “I suppose I’m his enemy for all time.”

  “I hope not. Jonathan was once a fun-loving young man. He was a wonderful son and brother—and a great friend. The war changed the person I knew.”

  Dante nodded. “It changed a lot of people.”

  “Why. . .why. . . ?” She hesitated and cleared her throat.

  Dante glanced at Savannah. Her knuckles whitened from her clenched hands on top of the buggy robe. “What were you going to ask?”

  She took a deep breath. “Why didn’t you fight in the war?”

  The memories he’d struggled to erase surged into his mind. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because you were the right age to enlist, yet you didn’t. How did you get out of going when everybody else was being drafted?”

  He took the reins in one hand and rubbed the other over his eyes. “I’ve never spoken about that to anyone, but maybe it’s time I did.” He paused for a moment, wondering where to begin. “When I was young, my father worked for a landowner named Thomas Jackson. He had a big plantation near Mobile. He didn’t own any slaves, just worked his land with hired men. I helped out, too, and he took a liking to me. In 1855, when I was fourteen, my parents died of yellow fever. I didn’t have any family, so Mr. Jackson let me live with him.”

  “He sounds like a nice man.”

  “He was. When the war came, I told him I would run away before I stepped on a battlefield and killed men who were trying to free the slaves. He understood my feelings and told me he’d try to help. He knew the people involved in conscripting soldiers, and he begged my case before them. As a favor to him, they agreed to exempt me from serving as a soldier if I would work as a medical helper on the battlefield.”

  Savannah’s eyes grew wide. “What did you do?”

  “I agreed. Saving lives instead of taking them seemed the right thing to do.”

  “Then why do you tell people you didn’t serve in the war?”

  “Because they ask the question meaning, did I fight? and no, I didn’t bear arms against another man. But the fight I had was probably as difficult as facing death.”

  Her forehead wrinkled. “What kind of fight did you have?”

  “The doctors, officers, and even some of the wounded didn’t like the idea of what they considered a coward helping them. I got the dirtiest jobs in the field hospitals and took the most abuse, but I survived. And now I can face those families living on Cottonwood and know that I didn’t fight to keep them enslaved.”

  “What did you do after the war?”

  “I went back to Mr. Jackson and worked for him. He’d kept my money safe, and he paid me a lot more after the war. When he died, his brother inherited the land, but Mr. Jackson left me a large sum of money that helped me to buy Cottonwood.”

  She sat in thought for a moment before she spoke. “The war changed all our lives, didn’t it? I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you. I admire you for being true to your beliefs. Thank you for telling me.”

  He nodded and directed his attention back to the horse. He hadn’t ever meant to tell her about that. And he hadn’t related how horrible it had been in those battlefield hospitals. He’d never forget all he’d seen.

  Perhaps he should have kept those memories to himself. He wanted her to judge him on what he was now, not what he’d been years ago. His story very well could convince her that he was a coward. If she believed that, it would be even worse than what he’d endured on the battlefield.

  Ten

  Savannah had tried all afternoon to erase the vision of Jonathan’s angry face from her mind. She could still see how he’d looked when he called her and Dante his enemies. He didn’t mean it, she told herself. She’d talk to him soon, and everything would be all right.

  When she wasn’t thinking about Jonathan, she thought about Dante’s revelation about his war experiences. She’d never known another man who had gone to such extremes to stand up for his convictions. When he could have run away or even gone north to fight, he chose to accept a gruesome existence in a battlefield hospital. She could only imagine the horror he’d endured amid the hurt and dying.

  Her heart swelled with pride for her husband’s actions. If the people of Willow Bend only knew, she was sure they would accept him. However, it was his story, not hers, to tell, and she would never breach his confidence.

  The door to the cabin opened, and Dante stepped in. He closed the door, pulled off his gloves, and blew on his hands. “It’s getting colder. I wouldn’t doubt if it gets down to freezing tonight.”

  Savannah hurried across the room that served as their combination parlor, kitchen, and dining room and grabbed the back of his coat as he shrugged it from his shoulders. “Freezing? It hardly ever gets that cold here.”

  She hung his coat on the peg next to the door. When she turned, he was staring at her. “Thank you.”

  Puzzled, she frowned. “For what?”


  “For helping me with my coat.”

  Her face burned, and she pointed toward the iron cookstove they’d brought from Aunt Jane’s house. “I’ve got a good fire going. Scoot your chair up and get warm while I finish supper.”

  As he settled in the chair, she turned her attention back to the pots on the stove. “Did you get all the livestock watered?”

  “Yes, thanks to Abraham and Joshua. Saul and Mamie have two mighty fine sons. They’re some of the best workers I’ve ever seen.”

  Savannah replaced the lid on the pot she’d just checked. “They are. Abraham is a little older than me, and Joshua is younger. Mamie used to make us sit while she was scrubbing clothes, and she’d tell us stories. I always thought Abraham was so funny. He loved to laugh and make jokes. I thought he might leave when he got his freedom, but he hasn’t.”

  Dante shrugged. “I think he loves his parents too much to leave. And now there’s someone else. A young girl named Hattie. She lives at the Crossroads. Her family hasn’t found a place to work yet.”

  “Maybe they’ll find something soon.” Dante’s face flushed, and she knew it wasn’t from the heat of the stove. “What is it? Is there something you haven’t told me?”

  “Abraham really wants to marry Hattie. So we decided Saul and Mamie’s house needed an extra room. He and Hattie can live there for a while. After next year’s crop, I think we’ll be able to set Abraham up with his own acreage to farm.”

  Savannah placed her hands on her hips and gazed at her husband. Every day he surprised her with something else he did for the people she’d loved all her life. “You’re a kind man, Dante Rinaldi. In the short time I’ve known you, you’ve done more for me and those I love than anyone else ever has. Thank you for that.”

  His gaze raked her face. “I appreciate that, Savannah.” He glanced down at his hands and held them out toward the warmth of the stove. “I’ve been meaning to ask you if you’re upset because we’re going to build Saul and Mamie’s house before ours.”