Columns of Cottonwood

by Sandra Robbins

She hesitated a moment. “All right. Good night.”

  “Good night, Savannah.”

  She closed the door, but he waited until he saw the lamplight underneath the door disappear and heard the bed creak. Then he pulled the note from his pocket again. Smoothing it out on the tabletop, he reread the message.

  He stared at the words for a moment before he sighed and stood up. Crossing the room, he drew the gun from the sideboard drawer and pulled his rifle down from where it hung on the wall. He sat at the table and laid the guns on top next to the note. If they had any visitors at Cottonwood tonight, he was going to be ready.

  ❧

  Savannah awoke, her body shaking from the cold. Even though darkness covered the room, she knew Dante had not come to bed. She had no idea how long she’d slept, but she supposed it must be the middle of the night.

  She slipped from underneath the covers and reached for the shawl on the chair beside the bed. Her feet touched the cold floor, and her skin prickled at the icy feel. She hurried across the room and opened the door.

  The oil lamp still burned on the table. Its glow cast an eerie light across the room and the figure slumped at the table. She eased into the room and stood beside her husband, bent over in sleep. She reached out to wake him, but she spied the note underneath his spread fingers.

  She frowned and slipped it free of his grasp. He stirred, and she held her breath. When he settled back into his restless sleep, she picked the paper up and read what was printed on it. Her eyes grew wide at the words, but a greater fear flowed through her at the sight of the weapons on the table.

  She didn’t know where or when Dante had received the note, but she understood his concern. He’d stayed up to guard their home while she slept, but his tired body had not been up to the task. She slipped the note under his hand and backed away from the table.

  Aunt Jane’s cedar chest sat against the bedroom wall, and she hurried to it and pulled out a patchwork quilt Aunt Jane had made years ago. She returned to the kitchen, stopped behind Dante’s chair, and draped the quilt around his shoulders.

  Savannah stared at his handsome face. Even as he slept, she could make out the lines of fatigue caused by his desire to make Cottonwood productive again and to rebuild the lives of the tenant farmers he’d brought there. Guilt pricked at her heart. She, too, contributed to his worries when she had defended Jonathan to him. The responsibilities he’d taken on in the past few months would defeat a lesser man, but not Dante. She’d never known anyone who had the strength of body and of character like he had.

  Her heart burst with love for him, and she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. She pulled her shawl tighter around her, scooted a chair closer to the stove, and sat down. Dante could sleep until morning. She’d keep watch for him.

  Fourteen

  A sound jerked Dante from his deep sleep. His cheek lay against a wooden surface. He blinked to remember where he was. The memory of trying to stay awake to keep watch flashed into his mind. He bolted into a sitting position and turned his head in the direction of whatever had awakened him.

  Savannah closed the oven door and set down a pan of biscuits. She wiped her hands on her apron and smiled at him. “I wondered how long you were going to sleep.”

  His gaze darted across the tabletop, but the note was nowhere to be seen. “H–how long have you been up?”

  She kept her attention directed at a skillet on the stove top and didn’t look around. “Oh, for some time now. I started to wake you, but I decided not to.”

  He looked under the table and around the bottom of his chair. The note had disappeared. He straightened and glanced at Savannah. She stood facing him with her arms crossed and a frown on her face. “Did you lose something?”

  “Just a piece of paper. I’m sure it’s around here somewhere.” He bent over and looked underneath the table again.

  “Is this what you lost?” The note dangled from her fingers.

  He slumped back in his chair. “So you’ve seen it?”

  She walked to the table and sat down opposite him. “Where did you get this?”

  He rubbed his hands over his eyes. “It was in Abraham’s shirt.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she nodded. “I thought it must have something to do with the lynching. What were you going to do? Stay up all night, guarding the house?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I just knew I had to keep watch.” He gave a disgusted grunt. “Some sentry I am. I couldn’t even stay awake. What if they’d come while I was asleep?”

  She smiled. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I would have heard them since I took over after I found you asleep.”

  His mouth gaped open in surprise. “You stayed up after I went to sleep?”

  She laughed and stood up. “I thought one of us ought to be alert, and you were sleeping so soundly I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

  “I’m sorry you missed your sleep.”

  “No need for that.” He watched as she went back to the stove and picked up the coffeepot. She poured two cups and scooted one toward him. “Drink this. It’ll help you awaken so that we can talk about what we’re going to do.”

  “We?”

  She bent over him, her face only a few inches from his. “If I remember correctly, you told me when we married that this land is mine, too. And I don’t intend to let anyone harm it or any of its people. Do you understand?”

  His heart hammered in his chest as he stared into her eyes. “Yes, I understand. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I married a woman determined to have a henpecked husband.”

  She blushed and turned away. “I don’t think you would ever let anybody make you do anything you didn’t want to.”

  He stared at her as she set the coffeepot on the stove. There was something different about Savannah. In the last few days, she’d acted happier than he’d ever seen her. It thrilled him to think her feelings for him might have something to do with that. He sat up straighter and noticed for the first time the quilt draped around his shoulders.

  He rubbed his fingers over the cover. “Where did this come from?”

  She turned, the pan of biscuits in one hand and a plate of eggs in the other, and set them in front of him. “I put it there. I didn’t want you to get cold.”

  Her face glowed, and he wondered if it was from the heat of the stove. “Thank you.”

  She sat in the chair across from him, picked up her coffee, and took a sip. He set his cup down and stared into its depth. “Last night seems like a bad dream.”

  “I know. I keep thinking of how Mamie and Saul looked when they saw Abraham in the coffin.” She closed her eyes for a moment, frowned, and shook her head. When she opened her eyes, she blinked back tears. “I need to go over there so Tildy and Josie can go feed their families.”

  He swallowed a bite of eggs and pointed to her coffee cup with his fork. “Aren’t you eating anything this morning?”

  She picked up her cup and took a sip. “I ate a biscuit before you woke up.”

  “You need to eat something else. It’s going to be a long day.”

  “I know.” She set the cup down. “What do you have planned for this morning?”

  He took a deep breath. “I’m going to see the sheriff first thing and tell him what’s happened. I doubt if he’ll do anything about it. Then I’m going to the store and buy some extra rifles and ammunition.”

  “Do you think they’ll attack us like they did the people at the Crossroads?”

  “I wouldn’t doubt it. If they come here, I mean for our people to be ready for them.”

  “You’ll be back in time for the burial, won’t you?”

  “I will.”

  “Then eat your breakfast and go to town. We’ll be ready when you get back.” She pushed up from the table and walked to the door. Her shawl hung on a peg beside it, and she reached for it. She pulled the wrap around her and opened the door. Before she stepped into the cold morning, she turned and smiled. “Be care
ful, Dante.”

  Her quiet words set his heart to pumping. Before he could respond, she walked outside. He restrained himself from rushing after her and sweeping her into his arms. Other matters needed his attention. He had to do everything in his power to see that Savannah and the people of Cottonwood were protected.

  ❧

  Savannah stared at her reflection in the mirror of the walnut dresser that had graced her bedroom at Aunt Jane’s and now sat crammed into the tiny room she shared with Dante. Her mind wandering, she pulled the silver-handled brush through her hair. Where could Dante be? He’d been gone since early morning, and now it was well past noon.

  She laid the brush down and stood to smooth the wrinkles from her dress. As she ran her palms down the length of the skirt, she remembered the last time she’d worn this dress—the day she’d married Dante.

  Backing up from the dresser, she twisted at the waist to get a better view of herself. She remembered how uncertain about her decision she’d been that day. Now she couldn’t understand why she would have ever doubted saying yes to his proposal.

  “What are you doing?”

  She jumped at the sound of his voice. He stood in the open door, a puzzled expression on his face.

  She reached for the brush on the dresser and pulled it through her hair once more. “I just finished dressing for Abraham’s burial, and I thought about when I wore this dress on our wedding day.”

  His gaze drifted over her. “And you’re more beautiful now than you were then.”

  She moved to stand in front of him. “I’m glad you think so.” She frowned at the sadness in his eyes. “How did it go with the sheriff ?”

  He gave a disgusted grunt. “About like I expected. He brushed the whole episode aside as if it didn’t matter. ‘After all,’ he said, ‘it was just a former slave that probably was stealing from somebody, and they decided to teach him a lesson.’ ”

  Savannah’s mouth gaped open, and she shook the brush she still held in his face. “Teach him a lesson? By killing him?”

  “That’s what I said, but the sheriff told me to go on home and let him worry about keeping the peace in the community.”

  Savannah clenched her fists and stomped her foot on the floor. “He hasn’t worried about that since the day he took office. Oh, I’d like to teach him a lesson.”

  Dante’s tired eyes flickered with laughter. “Remind me never to make you mad, my dear.”

  Savannah’s face burned, and she turned away. “Quit teasing me and get dressed. I laid your clothes out.”

  He followed her to the bed where his Sunday suit lay. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. His warm breath fanned her neck. “Thank you, Savannah.”

  She twisted in his arms and turned to face him. “For what?”

  His arms tightened, and he bent his head. “For being my wife.”

  Her lips met his in a sweet kiss that set her head spinning. She pulled back and smiled at him. “We’re going to be late for the funeral.”

  He chuckled and released her. “The voice of reason has spoken. I’ll change clothes.”

  She placed the brush on the dresser and headed for the door. “I’m going back to Mamie’s. Come on over when you get ready.” She stopped and whirled to face him before she left. “Oh, I forgot. Did you get the extra guns?”

  “I did.”

  A frown pulled at her brow. “That probably ran our bill up a lot at the store. Can we afford it?”

  He sank down on the side of the bed and ran his fingers through his hair. “We can if we have a good crop next year. Right now I have to do everything I can to protect our home.”

  She nodded. “Yes, you’re right.”

  He didn’t move or respond to her words. His head drooped, and his shoulders sagged. Last night’s events had touched him deeply. Savannah wished she could take some of the worry from his shoulders. Since their marriage, she’d come to a new understanding. God had a way of helping His children see what was most important in life. Money, land, acceptance in the community weren’t bad things to have, but without love and family, they meant nothing.

  Once she thought being back at Cottonwood was the only thing that would make her happy. Now she realized that her parents and all the people who’d lived on the plantation were what had given her home true meaning.

  The land and her goal of returning it to its former glory now took second place in her life to the man she had come to love. For the first time in her life, she had her priorities in the right order. She finally understood that it was the people she loved and who loved her that made life worth living.

  Fifteen

  Savannah glanced up from the shirt she was mending and stared at Mamie, who sat across the table from her. Three months had passed since they’d buried Abraham in the small cemetery where Cottonwood slaves had been buried for years, but Mamie still had not recovered.

  Savannah laid her sewing aside and reached across the table to grasp Mamie’s hand. “Mamie, can I get you something to drink?”

  Mamie shook her head. “No, thanks, Miss ’Vanna. I’m fine.”

  Savannah rose and knelt beside Mamie’s chair. “But I’m worried about you. You hardly eat anything. You’ve got to take care of yourself better.”

  A tear ran down Mamie’s cheek. “I knows that, but it’s hard to do.”

  “Saul and Joshua love you. They’re concerned, too.”

  Mamie nodded. “I know, but I can’t get over seeing my baby dead. That ain’t ’posed to happen. Chil’run shouldn’t die ’fore they mamma and poppa do.”

  “I understand how you feel, but—”

  Mamie held up a hand. “No, you don’t know how I feel, but you will soon when your baby come.”

  Savannah’s eyebrows arched, and she stared at Mamie. “I told you that’s a long time off.”

  A smile curled Mamie’s face. “Don’t you knows you got life in you, Miss ’Vanna?”

  Savannah pushed to her feet and stared down at Mamie. “What are you talking about?”

  Mamie rose from her chair and pressed her hand to Savannah’s stomach. “You with child, Miss ’Vanna. I knowed it some time ago. I reckon we be seeing your baby born this fall.”

  The breath left Savannah’s body. “No. You can’t be serious.”

  Mamie nodded. “It true. You and Mistuh Dante gwine have a baby, and we gwine see new life on Cottonwood. I ’spect Mistuh Dante be right proud.”

  Savannah’s mind whirled with thoughts she’d tried to dismiss for weeks. The tiredness, the queasy stomach in the mornings, and small changes she’d noticed in her body. They all added up to what she’d ignored. She was going to be a mother.

  Her eyes grew wide. “Do you really think I’m going to have a baby?”

  “I knows you are. I can always tell.”

  “B–but why didn’t I know?”

  Mamie chuckled. “I reckon you would real soon.”

  Savannah opened her mouth to protest, but the words wouldn’t come. Laughter rippled through her body, and she threw her arms around Mamie and hugged her. “I’m going to be a mother.”

  “Yas’m. And Mistuh Dante be a poppa.”

  At the mention of her husband, Savannah froze. Although there had been no raids on Cottonwood, rumors circulated that the band of murderers who attacked the Crossroads community still roamed the countryside from time to time. She didn’t want to add a wife who was going to have a baby to his worries, but he needed to know.

  “Don’t tell Dante about this yet.”

  Mamie frowned. “But why? He the father.”

  “I know, but he’s been so worried about what’s been happening in the countryside. He’s gone into town today to talk to the sheriff. I’ll tell him when the time is right. Just not yet. Promise me?”

  Mamie’s eyes clouded, but she nodded. “All right, Miss ’Vanna. You tell him when you gets ready.”

  The cabin door flew open, and Dante strode into the room. Savannah could tell from the ex
pression on his face something was wrong.

  Mamie gathered up her sewing and hurried to the door. “I gots to get home. Saul be coming from the barn soon. I’ll see you later, Miss ’Vanna.” She nodded to Dante. “Mistuh Dante.”

  He smiled at Mamie. “Take care of yourself, Mamie.”

  Dante closed the door when Mamie left and shrugged his coat from his shoulders. Savannah watched as he hung it up and trudged to the table.

  “What’s the matter?”

  He sat down and motioned for her to do the same. “I want to talk to you.”

  The tone of his voice frightened her. She eased into the chair. “Dante, you’re scaring me.”

  He clasped his hands on the table in front of him. “I hope I’m wrong, but I’m afraid we may have a visit from the raiders this evening.”

  Her heart pounded, and she swallowed back the fear that rose in her throat. “What makes you think they’d come now? It’s been three months since Abraham’s death, and they haven’t bothered us.”

  “It was the attitude of the sheriff today. When I asked him what he’d found out about Abraham’s lynching, he told me that anybody who would get upset over somebody hanging a thief might need to think about protecting his own home.” His fist pounded the table, and Savannah jumped in surprise. “He knows who they are, Savannah. He as much as said so. For all I know, he could be one of them, too.”

  “What makes you think it could be tonight?”

  He shrugged. “Tonight, tomorrow, the next night—I don’t know. But we have to be prepared. I’ve told the men what I need them to do. Now I want you to listen to me and do as I say.”

  “What is it?”

  He sat up straighter. “If they come, they may set fire to the cabins like they did at the Crossroads, so I don’t want anybody in them. I want you to take the women and children to the woods. The men and I will stay hidden here. After all, they believe they’re coming after former slaves who wouldn’t dare fight back against a white man. We intend to show them differently. With any luck, we’ll be able to surprise them.”

  Her heart pounded in fear, but she didn’t want Dante to see that she was afraid. She pushed back from the table and headed toward the stove. “That sounds like a good idea. I’ll fix you something to eat. Then I’ll get the women.”