But when she made her request at the desk, the clerk shook her head. “Sorry, ma’am, but books we ain’t got.”
“Yarn, then? I’ve run out.”
“I’ll ask cook. She always has her needles going for our soldiers who be needing wool stockings all the time.”
That too is the same as for the South. But did their yarn come in blue?
The young woman returned in a few minutes with a ball of undyed yarn, the same as Louisa used. “Here you go, ma’am. Good way to spend such a rainy afternoon.”
Louisa thanked her and turned to head back up the stairs.
“Oh, ma’am,” the clerk called, “I have a message delivered for your husband. Might you take it up with you?”
“Of course.” Her curiosity running rampant, Louisa took the envelope and returned to her room. It was good quality paper, no return address or stamp, so someone had dropped it off. Zachary’s name stood out in bold script, most likely masculine. She tapped the edge of the sealed envelope on the side of her finger. If it hadn’t been sealed with wax, she could have steamed it open. But there was no way to redo wax, at least without having wax at her disposal. A candle might have worked, but all the lights were gas.
With a sigh, she set the envelope on the mantel, took her chair, and resumed her knitting. And here she’d thought the trip would be exciting. Dusk parted the rain curtain and eased onto the stage, welcomed by gas streetlights and people hurrying home so quickly that the streets cleared in a short time.
Still no Zachary. When she dropped two stitches turning the heel, she had to admit it. Fear had become a real presence in the room and in her mind. Something could have happened to him. After all, he was seeking contraband to take back to the South. While he’d warned her more times than she cared to count that there was danger here, she’d put aside his admonitions with a light heart. After all, they were doing the will of the Lord in seeking to care for His hurting children. She had prayed for guidance, and the ease with which they’d traveled seemed to be a confirmation of divine intervention.
But where was Zachary?
If Zachary didn’t return, what could she do? Best throw herself on the mercy of Cousin Arlington, she decided.
Her hands fell idle, and she closed her eyes. Dear Lord, please help us. Bring Zachary back safe and sound and provide the morphine that we came for. Her prayer degenerated into a succession of pleadings, and throughout she felt as though her petitions went no further than the ceiling. Oh, Lord, have you forsaken us? The thought made her stomach flutter and her hands shake. Surely not. Surely Zachary was just busy and forgot the time.
What if I can’t get home again until after the war is over?
“You goose! Now stop that.” She picked up her knitting again and made a choice. “ ‘The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul. . . . ‘” By the time she’d recited the Twenty-third Psalm, the Ninety-first Psalm, and the Sermon on the Mount, she knew where her help lay. God said He would never leave her but would be her protector, and so He would.
Whether proper or not, she descended the stairs to the dining room again, this time for supper, smiling at the man who showed her to a small table in the corner. “Thank you.”
“You were almost too late,” the waiter said with a smile. “The beef is gone, but cook made a good chicken pie. And the bread is fresh, as always.”
“That sounds delicious.”
“Will your husband be joining you?”
“I think not. He must be caught up in business. Could I have a cup of tea now, please?”
“Of course.”
Sitting there sipping her tea, she caught the eye of a woman, also alone, at a nearby table. Louisa nodded and smiled politely. At least she wasn’t the only one eating by herself. She glanced around the rest of the room, then coming back to the other woman realized she had tears running down her cheeks, in spite of an apparent effort to stem the flow.
Louisa beckoned to the waiter. “Could you please bring my supper to that table?” At his nod, she picked up her cup and crossed the short distance. When the woman nodded, Louisa took the other chair and leaned forward.
“Sometimes telling total strangers is easier than talking with our loved ones. I’m Louisa Highwood.” She waited for another sniff.
“Mrs. John Hinklen, Joanna.” The woman dabbed at her eyes again. “Forgive me for such blubbering, but you see, I received notice two days ago that my husband, Major Hinklen, died of his wounds while trying to cross the Rappahannock. No matter how prepared I tried to be, I cannot quit crying. I thought perhaps some supper might help.”
“How long since you’ve eaten anything?”
Joanna shrugged.
“Have you family?”
A shake of the head. “Not here. We’re from New York, and we have no children.”
When the waiter set her supper in front of her, Louisa turned to him. “Have you any soup for Mrs. Hinklen? That might sit better than the chicken pie.”
“Yes, surely.”
“Oh, and a pot of tea, please. A large pot.”
An hour later, Louisa knew all about the Hinklens and hated the war even more—if that were possible.
But Zachary had yet to make an appearance.
BLYTHEVILLE COURTROOM
Jesselynn rose and spoke. “Your Honor, may I—”
“No. You’ll get your turn.”
Jesselynn sank back down on the bench.
Someone stood up behind them. “Yer Honor, I think I saw what Stillwater saw.”
“Were you with Stillwater?”
“Not exactly. I was over by the livery, just bringin’ my horse out to head on home.”
“And what exactly did you see?”
“Ya know how ya see somethin’ out of the corner of yer eye, but when you turn quick, you don’t see nothin’? Well, that’s kinda the way it was, but right on the front stoop of the store.”
“Did you see the killer go in?”
“Not exactly, but I heard the shots.”
“Thank you. You may sit down.”
The judge stared around the room again. “Anyone else?”
Jesselynn started to raise her hand but found it clamped by Aunt Agatha. She glared at her aunt, but the hand held. With a jerk she freed herself and stood.
“Your Honor, Daniel Highwood was with us and has been with us since we left home in Kentucky. We were still in Springfield.” Her words tripped faster as she neared the end.
“And you are . . . ?”
“Jesse Highwood, last remaining son of Captain Thaddeus Highwood of Midway, Kentucky. Ah . . . he instructed me to . . . ah . . . join my aunt in Springfield after . . .” She paused. How to tell the tale and yet not all of the tale?
“Your Honor, may I clarify things for you?”
Jesselynn looked down to see her aunt with one genteel hand raised in the air, her voice rich and smooth like warm molasses.
The judge nodded. But when Agatha started to rise, he raised one hand as if in blessing. “No, you may remain seated.”
Jesselynn sat down, closing her gaping mouth with a snap.
“I am a widow, Your Honor. My husband, Hiram Highwood, was one of the early casualties of this terrible war. He believed he was needed by our President Jefferson Davis, and nothing anyone said would keep him from servin’ with the Confederate army.” She lifted a bit of cambric to her nose and to the edge of her eye, cleared her throat and, at the judge’s nod, continued. “Some bushwhackers burned our farm to the ground, and since I had no funds with which to pay our taxes, even our land is gone. But with my dear nephew and our few remainin’ slaves, I have determined to start over again in Oregon country. But, Your Honor, I am getting on in years, and I desperately need every hand I can get. I lived in Springfield all my life, and if you want I can send for letters from our pastor, from the doctor, and from anyone else you need, sayin’ that I was still in Springfield at t
hat time and all my household with me.”
Jesselynn schooled her face to not reveal her surprise. Her household? They’d argued fiercely for her to accompany them. And they’d been living in a cave.
“I would be livin’ there still were it not for the passing on of my dear husband.” The handkerchief fluttered again. “Surely you would want to come to the aid of an agin’ widow, destitute due to the travesty of war.”
“And you would swear on the good book that Daniel Highwood was with you all the time?”
“I would, Your Honor.” She leaned forward. “I will do so right now if you so decree.”
“That will not be necessary.” The judge folded his hands on the desk top. He looked to the sheriff and then around the room.
Jesselynn held her breath.
The judge picked up a wooden gavel beside him and slammed it down.
She jumped, her air whooshing out.
“Free him. I find this young man innocent due to lack of sufficient evidence to convict him.”
A groan rumbled through the room, and snarling could be heard, nearly covering an expletive or two from the direction of the witness.
“Silence!” The gavel thundered again. The judge was forced to slam wood on wood again, but the room quieted down. “Now, Sheriff, remove those shackles so these folks can be on their way.” Glancing around the room, his face a study in stern lines and frown slashes, he continued. “And if I hear of disruption of any kind with the intent to harm anyone in my jurisdiction, I will personally nail that scumbag’s hide to the nearest barn. Is that understood?”
Jesselynn felt extremely grateful he wasn’t directing his diatribe at her. As soon as the sheriff had unshackled Daniel, she, her aunt, and the young man strode up the aisle, looking neither to the right nor to the left. Meshach met them at the door and closed it behind them.
“Where were you?” She kept up the pace even as she asked the big man. “We saved you a place.”
“Didn’t you see? No darkies down in the front, only in a bitty little section at de back. I stayed dere. Much better.” He pushed open the door and ushered them out to where the sun caught them full in the face.
Daniel stopped and lifted his face to the warmth. “Thank de Lawd, I can feel the sun again.”
“We need to thank Him for all He has done.” Aunt Agatha stopped at the wagon and waited to be assisted to her chair. “I sure do wish we could leave that camp right now and, as the Lord’s Word says, ‘shake off the dust’ of this place from our feet. You think it might be safe to travel during the day?”
Jesselynn took the reins and backed up the horses, since they were hemmed in on both sides with other teams and wagons, then headed them up the street and toward the camp. “All we need is for someone to see the horses, and then we’ll have more trouble than a fox in a henhouse. Stealing them and selling them to the army would net someone better’n a year’s wages. I sure do pray the sheriff keeps his deputy under lock and key for the next several days. He didn’t look like he took too kindly to the judge’s final speech.”
“I heard the sheriff say somethin’ ‘bout one more misstep and he was fired.” Daniel huddled right behind the wagon seat, casting fear-filled glances back down the road. “I surely do hope the sheriff keep him busy in town.”
“What if you and Daniel take the horses and head out across country? Surely you could stay away from farms and such, and we’ll go the roads with Benjamin as lookout. We could meet up the Kansas Road aways. Anything to get out of here safely.”
Meshach sat, his elbows propped on his knees, and stared at the rumps of the team. He shook his head slowly, teeth worrying his lower lip. “I don’t know. If we get stopped without you, we in bad trouble.”
“I know. But if I take the horses, then you’d have Aunt Agatha to ward off any unwanted attention.” She turned to her aunt. “You were magnificent in that courtroom.”
Agatha looked up from her knitting. “Thank you. If you ask me, I think we need to travel on right now, and if you go with the horses, the rest of us will manage. If need be, I know how to use a firearm too. Hiram—may his soul rest in peace—taught me before he left for the war.”
Jesselynn shook her head. “Aunt Agatha, you’re just full of surprises today.” She could feel the smile stretching cheeks that hadn’t found a lot to smile about lately. “What do you think?” She glanced at Meshach.
“Don’ seem like no best way. Just hope God’s sendin’ angels around us, ‘cause we might be needin’ dem.”
“Hope doesn’t do anything, young man. Prayer does it all.” The word came from over their shoulders.
“Yes’m.”
“Yes, ma’am.” They spoke at the same time.
Jesselynn felt like whistling. Daniel was free, and so were they.
When they reached camp, Ophelia had a meal waiting and all the boxes packed. As soon as they ate, they loaded the wagon and hitched the team of Chess and Roman back in the traces. Standing in a circle, they bowed their heads while Meshach prayed.
“God in heaven, we thank you for saving Daniel from the hangman today. Thank you for watching over us so wise and good, for keepin’ us safe. Thank you dat you are puttin’ legions of angels all around us to protect us from de enemy. De Bible say you are our sure defense, and we thank you for dat. Keep us safe, Lawd, so we can praise yo’ holy name. Amen.”
They echoed his amen and helped Aunt Agatha up into the wagon, tossing the boys in after her. Daniel, with one of the guns at his side, took up a seat on a box in the rear with Meshach and Ophelia on the wagon seat. Every time they loaded, the wagon seemed heavier laden. Jesselynn had already decided they would need two wagons and four teams of oxen to transport all the needed supplies for the long march to Oregon. Nightly she stewed over where the money would come from. The stash from the sale of the horses dwindled every time she went to town.
Benjamin held the lead ropes to the mares and filly while Jesselynn mounted Ahab. Lord, I sure do hope this is what you want us to do. Jesselynn took the lead lines and watched the two foals galloping and kicking up their heels. They darted around their dams and then charged off again. “You two better save your energy. You’re goin’ to need it later.”
“Dey feisty all right.” Benjamin took one of the lead lines. “We might shoulda broke dem to halter. Keep ’em safer dat way.”
“Tonight when we stop.” She rode up beside the wagon. “Once we reach the road, we’ll find a good place to camp and wait for you. Watch for a white rag on a branch.”
Meshach nodded. “Go with God.” He flapped the reins, and with a groan and screech the wagon eased forward. Chess and Roman pricked their ears forward and plodded on out of the camp.
“You too.” Jesselynn and Benjamin waited for only a moment before heading north to go cross-country. She’d asked one of the shopkeepers where the other roads ran and had drawn Meshach a rough map for the best way to stay away from Blytheville. While it would take longer that way, she knew it was for the best. They should meet up by nightfall, but just in case, she and Benjamin had saddlebags of supplies and their quilts rolled in deer hides tied behind their saddles.
After a mile or two, Jesselynn took all the lead lines and let Benjamin travel a bit ahead to keep them out of some farmer’s territory. When they crested one of the many rolling hills, he’d steer them away from the secret valleys where cattle grazed and wheat and hayfields glinted green in the dancing breeze. A dog or two barked at their passing as they bypassed swamps in the lowlands and ponds where blackbirds sang and bullfrogs bellowed their spring love songs.
“Fish taste mighty fine for suppah.” Benjamin reined in his stallion and let him drink at a shoreline. Jesselynn let hers have a few mouthfuls before pulling Ahab and the mares back. One of the foals stuck a foot in the water and leaped backward as if he’d been bitten.
“That they would.” Jesselynn studied the terrain ahead of them. The land glowed golden in the setting sun. They had yet to come across the Kansas R
oad, and since they’d been traveling more or less west by northwest, she was beginning to feel niggles of apprehension. Had the shopkeeper been less than honest with them? Or had they not made the time she thought they would?
Most of all, had they made a terrible mistake in splitting the family and going two separate ways?
She dismounted and, removing Ahab’s bridle, let him graze along with the mares. Both foals now had turned to nursing, their brush tails flicking from side to side. “If you think you could catch some fish in a half hour or so, give it a try. Surely we’ll find the road pretty soon, and we’ll get a fire started right away.”
Benjamin took his fishing line and hook from his saddlebag and made his way farther up the bank. She could hear him cutting a willow branch for a pole and knew he would look under rocks in the shallows for periwinkles for bait. She trapped a grasshopper with one hand but let it go. True, grasshoppers made good bait, but she dared not leave the grazing horses to go look for Benjamin. Both foals flopped over on their sides, ribs rising and falling with their sleeping breaths. Legs straight out, they looked worn-out, like toys a child dropped when tired of them.
Jesselynn propped her back against the trunk of a willow tree, knowing that if she lay down, she’d be out just like the foals. The contented crunching of the grazing horses worked like a lullaby, the blackbirds’ trills drifting on the cooling air.
She jerked awake and forced herself to her feet. What was she doing nodding off when who knew how many miles they had left to go before reaching the Kansas Road? She whistled and waited for Benjamin to answer. When no answer came, she sighed. He’d probably found a good fishing hole beyond earshot. The thought of fried fish for supper made her forgive his carelessness.
She whistled again and listened.
Nothing but a blackbird answered. A swallow swooped by, its open beak catching bugs over the water. Ahab lifted his head, ears pricked to the north. She clamped a hand over his nose just before he whinnied.
A Secret Refuge [02] Sisters of the Confederacy Page 17