Yankee Bride / Rebel Bride

by Jane Peart

  Another group of soldiers was piling pots and pans into an empty flour sack from which they had emptied its former contents onto the floor. The sight of all this waste overwhelmed Garnet, knowing as she did the diminished state of their supplies. Now, their larder would surely be bare.

  "Please! You're taking food out of the mouths of children, and an invalid!"

  The soldier growled, "We have our orders. All stores found on rebel property is to be confiscated by the government."

  Helplessly, Garnet turned at ominous sounds in the dining room.

  There she saw two soldiers emptying out the drawers of the Sheraton sideboard in the dining room, throwing the ornate Montrose silverware helter-skelter into pillowcases they must have stripped from the beds upstairs. Enraged, she tried to make herself heard over the noise.

  "Haven't you done enough damage?"

  The sergeant simply glowered at her and snarled, "We're just doing our duty."

  "Is it the duty of Union soldiers to enter private homes, to rob and steal everything in sight?" Garnet asked scornfully. '

  "Have you no honor, no decency that you would threaten a household of defenseless women with no man to protect them?" she demanded.

  "Have your damn Rebel husband come home and protect you!"he retorted, his narrowed eyes cold as steel.

  Garnet drew in her breath at the insult and saw in an instant flash of discernment that his mean-spirited nature was a mixture of envy, hatred, and revenge. Something in this man's life had formed him into this mold. She saw in his expression that, woman or not, Garnet was his enemy and should be treated as such.

  The men went about their despicable tasks. One man looked over his shoulder at her and shouted an obscenity. Feeling nauseated, Garnet averted her eyes and with a great effort pulled herself away. She staggered back through the pantry and out into the hall. Carrie with Jonathan was crouched under the curve of the stairwell. She stopped there for a moment, murmuring some words of comfort or encouragement, hardly aware of what she was doing. Then she mounted the steps, dreading what must be taking place on the second floor as she heard the heavy clump of bootsteps on the floorboards.

  To her utter despair when she reached the top of the stairs, she saw the spoilers had done their work as thoroughly there as well.

  They had entered every bedroom, pulling covers and linens off every bed. Nothing had been left untouched, bureau drawers yanked out, the contents overturned on the floor and tromped underfoot as the mad search went on. Curtains had been dragged down, draperies torn, armoires opened, and clothes indiscriminately scattered in every direction—dresses, bonnets, cloaks, and shoes tossed everywhere.

  Garnet, standing in the middle of the hall, glanced down toward Sara's wing and saw Dove with Dru in her arms, bravely guarding the door.

  She heard Dove's soft, sweet voice raised as two of the soldiers advanced. "Sirs, in the name of God, I entreat you. My mother-in-law is a very sick woman. The sight of you in her private rooms could kill her! I beg you to think of your own mothers and how you would feel if they were being treated thus."

  To her amazement Garnet saw the two men, even as they mumbled oaths, turn away with shamed faces and start in another direction. This time Garnet realized it was her own wing of the house to which they were heading.

  With a heart-clutching sensation, she thought of that apartment she had come to as a bride, all newly decorated and furnished, with the beautiful cabbage rose wallpaper, the velvet draperies, the marble-topped tables, the bedroom with its satin quilt and lacy pillows. All her jewelry and the little gold ormulu clock and her Staffordshire dogs on the mantlepiece, the globed wax flower arrangements. . . .

  She closed her eyes and drew a long, ragged breath as she heard the sound of porcelain breaking, the tinkling sound of shattering glass.

  Heartsick, she turned and started back down the stairs, her knees shaking so that she had to cling to the banister. The front door had been flung open and suddenly she heard the increased sound of pounding horses' hooves. She hurried down the last few steps and ran out to the porch just in time to see soldiers coming from the stables with the six carriage horses, the four chestnuts that belonged to Mr. Montrose, the two bays for Sara's landau. But it was when she saw a trooper on horseback with her Trojan Lady on a lead and with Jonathan's pony behind it that she threw caution to the wind. She ran across the porch, down the steps and across the lawn and made a grab at the soldier's reins shouting, " You can't take that pony! It belongs to a little boy! I won't let you!"

  The trooper looked startled at first, then a mean, vindictive expression came over to his face. "Let go my reins, woman!"

  "Not the pony! You can't take it!" Garnet said dragging on the reins until the horse, tossing his head wildly, came to a stop.

  Jonathan, who had followed her out to the porch, now stood at the top of the steps, sobbing and calling, "Aunt 'Net, don't let them take Bugle Boy!"

  "I won't, honey!" Garnet screamed back and moved to untie the lead when all of a sudden a slicing pain snapped her head back and brought scalding tears to her eyes. The soldier had brought his crop down to hit her hands, missed, and in his swinging thrust had slashed her face. Garnet dropped the rope knotted onto Trojan Lady's lead and put a trembling hand to her cheek. It came away bloody.

  "That's teach you, you—" The trooper called her a name Garnet had never heard used in her presence. She only knew of its crude vulgarity by the way it was hurled at her. With the vicious attack the trooper spurred his horse, jerking its reins and rode off, pulling Jonathan's fat pony after him.

  Another soldier riding nearby gave a harsh laugh and shouted at Garnet, "I'd be careful if I was you, lady! This house is marked for burning! We know you've been harboring rebels! I wouldn't take no chance going to sleep too soundly tonight!"

  Garnet stood there momentarily stunned, feeling the blood trickling through the fingers of the hand she held to her cheek as the noise and loud voices of the soldiers pounding by her reverberated in her cars.

  Garnet, who had never been touched except in tenderness, gentlness, and love, felt the excruciating pain of the lash quiver from the side of her face all down her arm. Suddenly she felt the bitter taste of nausea rise up in her and she doubled over and slowly sank onto the dusty ground.

  Everything blurred before her as the pain exploded in her brain and she fought the blackness of vertigo come upon her. She lowered her head and saw her blue skirt spotted with crimson.

  Then Garnet felt a hard thud on her back and knew that Jonathan had run from the porch and flung himself upon her. His little arms went around her neck in a stranglehold and he was sobbing hysterically, the hot tears dampening the collar of her dress.

  chapter

  32

  "THOSE BRUTES!" Dove said over and over as she and Tilda fussed over Garnet, applying cloths wrung out in cool water to her face, which was already beginning to swell. It was so painful that Garnet could barely bear the gentle pressure of their ministrations.

  Harmony stood a little apart, looking on, wringing her hands and shaking her head, making small, sympathetic noises as the other two hovered over Garnet.

  "Is anyone with Mama?" Garnet asked.

  "Carrie's with her," Dove replied.

  "Well, don't tell her about this," Garnet said, closing her eyes and wincing as the pad Tilda was pressing against her cheek sent pain scaring through her. "I'll not go up. Seeing me like this would only upset her more." She sighed, then looked at Dove and said, "But we should probably give her a double dose of laudanum tonight if what that man said is true. If they're really going to come back tonight and . . . torch the house. Perhaps that was just meant to terrorize us."

  "Her supply of laudanum is getting low . . . just like everything else." Dove shook her head.

  "Well, we still have camomile tea," Garnet said wearily. "Whatever else, we don't need her in hysterics."

  "What about tonight?" Dove asked. "What are we going to do?"

  "I don
't know what we can do but be ready to leave at a minute's notice." Garnet's head ached so furiously it was difficult to think. But she knew she had to try, help Dove plan. She could count on Dove to carry out any suggestion.

  Every nerve in her body seemed to be twitching. Deep within her burned a fiery anger at the outrage of the morning, but she knew she had to keep it under control, to think clearly what would be best for all the lives under her charge.

  "Oh, God, what now?" she heard herself moan.

  "Garnet, you need to rest for a bit now. I'll come back later and we can talk. . . decide—" Dove said softly. "I'll go see Mama and check on the children. Linny is with them so they are all right for now. Except Jonathan—he's very upset about his pony."

  Dove covered Garnet lightly with an afghan and tiptoed out of the room, leaving her alone.

  It was impossible for Garnet to rest. She felt so helpless. What were they going to do? Without food? Without horses for transportation or for the farm work? But then what was left of the farm? The animals had been taken or killed. The fury of her hopeless dilemma swept over her and her muscles reacted, jerking spasmodically.

  Unable to lie still, Garnet pulled herself up stiffly. She saw Rose's Bible that she now kept by her bedside for those sleepless nights. She groped for it, brought it up to her breast, clutching it with both hands, feeling the roughness of its blistered cover. Holding it against her, she rocked back and forth in a kind of agony. She remembered Rose saying once, "There is an answer for everything in the Bible. It wasn't just written for people living in those times—it has meaning for our lives now." Was there any meaning for what had happened to her that morning? Garnet wondered bitterly.

  She placed the Bible on her lap and prayed silently: O Father, you know I'm having a hard time believing that You really care about me, about what's going on here. I want to believe, with all my heart, I really do! I want to trust You like Rose did, only somehow, it's harder for me. I thank you for what You've done for me before now. I know You helped me that time I had to go to Richmond, take those papers for Bryce. I know You are helping me manage things here. But, O God, I don't know what to do now!I am so scared, Lord. Show me in your Word what this is all about, what I should do!

  She opened the Bible, turning the pages one by one, until she came to Psalm 91. There her eyes rested and she began to read.

  "Oh God!" Garnet pleaded aloud. "Give me courage! Whatever is ahead, whatever lies in store, don't let me give way!"

  Garnet did not realize it, but in that heart's cry, in that act of flinging herself on His mercy and protection, she had come the closest yet to believing God is real. That evening as it grew dark and night approached, struggling to mask their own fear for the sake of the children, the women went about shuttering the windows, bolting the doors, shoving furniture in front of them, leaving only one avenue of escape if the threat of burning was carried out. This was through the pantry, out to the breezeway that connected the kitchen to the main house. They decided that they would bed down in the dining room all together. The women would take turns keeping watch while the others slept if they could.

  They fed the children, dressed them in warm, outer clothing over their nightdresses, made them beds of quilts and pillows in the center of the room. Childlike, Alair and Jonathan thought it an adventure and, since the adults did not betray their own apprehensions, they were allowed to make a game of it.

  Carrie was stationed outside Sara's room in the upper hall so that she could be alerted at a minute's notice to help Sara out. Since she was the strongest and stoutest of the Negro women, she could easily carry the fragile invalid, if it came to that.

  Everything was done now that could be done. To her own surprise Garnet heard herself say, "There is nothing more to do now but pray."

  The other women nodded. They formed a circle around the children, who, with the innocence of childhood, were cuddled down and drowsy in spite of the peril that surrounded them.

  "How shall we pray?" quavered Harmony.

  "We'll pray the Psalms," Garnet answered with assurance unknown to her before. She got out Rose's Bible and in the flickering light from the stub of a single candle she began to read the Ninety-first Psalm, heavily marked by Rose's hand:

  I will say of the Lord,

  The Lord is my refuge and my fortress: . . .

  My God, in Him will I trust. . . .

  As she continued her voice grew stronger:

  Surely He shall deliver thee

  from the snare of the fowler. . . .

  He shall cover thee . . .

  Under His wings shalt thou trust. . . .

  There was more assurance now in Garnet's reading:

  Thou shall not be afraid

  for the terror by night,

  she read with great emphasis.

  Nor for the arrow that flieth by day.

  Nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness.

  Nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday.

  Her voice broke a little at this point, and there were soft sighs, low sobs from the women kneeling with her in the shadows.

  A thousand may fall at thy side,

  Ten thousand at thy right hand;

  But it shall not come nigh thee.

  Only with thine eyes shalt thou behold

  And see the reward of the wicked.

  Garnet swallowed, thinking of what had happened to them. It certainly looked as if the victors had walked away with the spoils. She went on steadily:

  Because thou hast made the Lord,

  which is my refuge,

  Even the Most High, thy habitation;

  There shall no evil befall thee,

  Neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling.

  For He shall give His angels charge over thee.

  A hush fell on the little group.

  Suddenly a loud knocking shattered the stillness. All the women jumped. Garnet scrambled to her feet. There was a frightened moan from Harmony. The others stirred anxiously.

  Garnet thought, Oh, dear God, they've come to burn the house, to give five minutes to get out!

  Her mind raced to Carrie keeping watch outside Sara's room. Should she send one of them to help her with Sara and have Linny get the children ready to run outside? Before she could decide what to do first, another knock came at the front door.

  "Wait! Hush!" Garnet commanded the others. "Why would they just knock if they'd come to burn the house? We would have heard the horses! Maybe it's someone sent from Cameron Hall to see if we're all right, to help us. I'll go. Everyone stay just as you are. Don't wake the children. Not yet."

  She took the candle and started down the dark hall toward the front door, not knowing what awaited her on the other side.

  "Who is it?" she asked in a voice louder and steadier than she felt.

  "Major Jeremy Devlin," came a deep, masculine voice.

  Garnet held the candle higher and peered out through the glass panels on either side of the door. All she could make out was the dark outline of a tall uniformed figure. The voice came again reassuringly.

  "I am alone, ma'am. There is nothing to fear, I assure you. I just want to speak with you. On my honor, ma'am."

  "What do you want?" Garnet asked cautiously.

  "I have come on a mission of my own as an officer and a gentleman, ma'am," was the reply.

  Garnet hesitated only a minute longer, then dragged away the chest they had pulled across the door, slipped the bolt back and opened the door. In the wavering light of the candle she could see a man strongly built, wearing a Union officer's well-cut uniform. He bared his head and bowed politely.

  "I have come to deeply apologize for the trouble, for the discourtesy with which you have been treated. The men who vandalized your home came here before I arrived at the garrison. I do not know on whose orders. However, I am here to tell you I will personally guard these premises so that your household can rest secure." At this he saluted, turned, and marched down the porch steps. Garnet watc
hed, amazed, as he untethered his horse, then took a place on one of the lower steps.

  She closed the door, overcome with a feeling of relief and gratitude. Surely it was an answer to their prayers, a confirmation of the words David had written long ago in the Psalms they had just been reading: My God, a constant help in time of trouble. I called to you in my distress you heard and answered me. Blessed is the name of the Lord, she whispered.

  In the gray light of dawn Garnet got up from the floor where she had been resting and went to the window just in time to see Major Devlin mount his horse and ride off in the morning mist.

  For the next two days there were no Yankee visitations. But each evening at dusk a lone rider would appear at the bend of the driveway and take his post at the front of the house.

  The household slept peacefully. Two days later Garnet was in the pantry helping Tilda re-sack some of the flour they had swept up from the Yankees' wanton pillage when she heard Jonathan shouting at the top of his voice.

  "Aunt 'Net! Aunt 'Net! It's Bugle Boy! Some Yankee's brought him back!"

  Jonathan, who had been trying to help them, dropped the small bucket he was filling with cornmeal and ran into the yard.

  Garnet followed him. A blue-uniformed officer on horseback was coming up the drive, leading the trotting butterscotch colored Shetland pony toward the house. He stopped as Jonathan reached him and watched as the small boy threw his arms around the pony's neck, hugging him and saying over and over, "Bugle Boy! Oh, Bugle Boy! You're back! You've come home!"

  She recognized the officer. It was Major Devlin.

  Garnet picked up her skirts and hurried forward, then she stopped. Her hand automatically went to her cheek where the welt from the trooper's whip had left an ugly, red mark. It had not been visible in the dark when he had come to guard Montclair. She wondered if he had also heard of that incident.

  The Major again bared his head and said quietly, "I want to apologize again for what happened. It was a shameful deed."

  "Their excuse was—they said we were known to be harboring Confederate soldiers," Garnet said scornfully. "It wasn't true."