“Papa was never interested in such things as the theater,” Verly whispered to Elise. Then she paused. “But I’m not criticizing him,” she added quickly.
“Of course not,” Elise assured her. “Different people like different things. I’m so glad Mama and Papa love the theater, because I do, too!”
After Papa had taken care of the team and the carriage, he joined them, and they all went upstairs to their special balcony seats. Verly touched the velvet seats and smiled at Elise. “I’m so pleased you invited us.”
“It was Mama. She’s the one who thought of it.”
The drama was powerful and moving. Elise considered it to be a perfect remedy for forgetting about the war for a few short hours. During intermission, as they stood about in the crowded, lavish lobby, Elise said to Verly, “Isn’t it amazing how the lively drama on the stage can help people forget their troubles?”
Verly nodded. “You’re right. This is the happiest night I’ve had in a long, long time. It’s certainly helped me to forget about my troubles.”
Elise thought about that for a moment. “Verly, let’s you and I write a play together. Perhaps we could use it to cheer sad people.”
Verly’s face brightened. “Write a play? Together? Why, that’s a splendid plan.”
“Come, girls,” Mama said, shooing them back in. “The second act is about to begin.”
“We can begin it next week,” Elise whispered as the lights went low and the curtain rose.
CHAPTER 5
Cabin in the Woods
Mrs. Boyd couldn’t stop thanking the Brannons for their thoughtfulness in including her and Verly in the festive evening. As Papa and Samuel escorted the Boyds from the carriage to the front steps of the Harvey Boardinghouse, Elise felt all warm and happy inside. Bringing joy to other people, she decided, was about the best feeling in the world.
She and Verly now had a secret because they’d promised each other that they wouldn’t tell a soul about their play until they were ready to begin casting. The next morning at church, they made funny faces at one another across the aisle. Verly and her mama always sat in the Harvey pew. Aunt Ella, Melissa, and the twins treated them more like family than boarders.
Elise was sure that must ease Mrs. Boyd’s burden somewhat. But life was still difficult for the widow. Elise hoped they would soon receive a letter from Alexander so their hearts would rest easy once again. Elise couldn’t imagine how awful it would be to have Samuel gone and not know where he was or even if he was alive.
This Sunday, Aunt Ella’s elder son, Charles, sat with the family. Charles’s work with the Little Miami Railroad kept him away from the city a good deal of the time. Trains were constantly moving supplies and troops and bringing the wounded home. Elise knew Charles’s life was in danger in his locomotive just as much as the soldiers fighting out on the battlefields. He told many stories of being shot at and having railroad bridges blown up.
His bride-to-be, Alison Horstman, sat primly by his side. Their wedding was set for spring—that is, if Charles could get a day or so of leave. Alison’s father, Ted Horstman, was an executive for the Little Miami, and it was he who introduced the tall, handsome, quick-thinking Charles to his youngest daughter.
Elise looked at Alison, who was as pretty as her name. How fortunate she was to be getting a husband during these times. Elise had heard Cousin Alicia say that by the time she was ready to be married, all the young men would have been killed in battle.
After services, the cold gray of the day prevented churchgoers from doing much visiting in the churchyard. Everyone wanted to get home and get warm. But Elise and Verly captured a few minutes to talk.
“I’ve been so full of ideas for a play,” Verly said, “that I could barely sleep last night.”
“That’s good. We’ll need lots of ideas.” “Have you ever written a play before?”
Elise shook her head. “Never. But I’ve read plenty of them. It can’t be too hard. And we’ll want to create enough parts so several of our friends can help us put it on.”
“Let’s begin tomorrow at recess.” Verly looked up at the sky. “Looks like it’ll be an indoor day.”
“And remember, we want to keep it a secret.”
Verly smiled. “That’ll be the most fun part.”
During recess for the next couple weeks, Elise sat with Verly as they penned scene after scene. Their story was about an Ohio backwoods farmer, his wife, and several children and their funny escapades on the farm.
“They’ll talk funny,” Elise said, “like the Squirrel Hunters who came to Cincinnati during the siege.” Though she’d been only eight at the time, she remembered helping to serve food to the hundreds of backwoodsmen who rushed to defend the city when Rebels threatened attack.
“A good idea,” Verly agreed. “They’ll say things like, ‘I was sartain them peaches was spiled.’”
Elise laughed. “You’re good at that. Do some more.”
“How about this: ‘The dogs follered the coons right close, but we brung no meat home cuz the crick was up.’”
Elise put her hand over her mouth to stifle the giggles. “Do you think you can teach that to our actors?”
Verly thought a minute, then shrugged. “I don’t see why not. It’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it.”
“I heard the Squirrel Hunters, too, but I never picked up on the way they talked like you did.”
Verly smiled shyly at the praise.
When Verly first came to Walnut Hills Elementary School, she’d kept mostly to herself. The loss of her home and her father had broken her heart. Now here she was laughing and becoming excited about their play. Elise’s plan to cheer up sad people through her play was working even before the play was presented. Miss Earles seemed pleased as well to see Verly so interested in something.
Whenever Miss Earles took her long rod and pulled down the map of the United States, Verly’s face would go white. She’d told Elise one day that her papa was buried near a town in Virginia. Her mama grieved that they couldn’t even visit Papa’s grave.
The map of the war was changing. The Union now held the entire Mississippi River, cutting off the Confederate states from Texas and from their supply bases on the river. Even though many of the students had lost brothers, cousins, fathers, and uncles in the war, Miss Earles felt it should be discussed and that they be kept informed of what was happening.
On a separate map on the far wall, she had the children write on tiny slips of paper the names of their soldier-relatives. These were then pinned to the map in the place where that person was fighting. The map was getting quite full of strips of paper. Each morning after Miss Earles read from the Bible, they prayed for the names on their map.
“You are living in a time of history that is changing our entire nation,” Miss Earles told them one day. “It’s vital that you learn from it as much as you can.”
Elise wasn’t so sure she agreed. Though she wanted to pray for Uncle George and Cousin Jeremiah, she wished she could ignore the terrible war altogether!
Spring was ushered in by downpours of cold rain. Every day, Elise thought about Mr. Finney, the man she’d seen in the grocer’s in February. She wanted so much to go find his cabin, but she knew Mama wouldn’t let her go riding alone when the weather was so nasty.
Most afternoons after school, Elise and Peter helped Chancy walk the horses. One of the mares—Mama’s favorite, Allegro—was getting ready to foal, and they were all excited about the new arrival. Mama always said there was nothing like the sight of a foal in the paddock to make the heart glad.
In another week or so, Chancy would turn the horses outside every day, but Papa never liked his best horses to be out until the weather was warmer.
One afternoon when Elise and Peter arrived home from school, the sun was shining and there was a tinge of warmth in the air. This was the day she planned to locate Mr. Finney’s cabin, but she knew it wouldn’t be easy to slip away from Peter.
Aft
er changing from their school clothes and grabbing apples for the horses, they raced one another out to the stable. In her apron pocket, Elise carried a note for the man accused of being a traitor, but she wasn’t sure what she was going to do with it.
Chancy was walking Allegro in the paddock. His plaid blanket coat was slung over one of the fence posts, and his long-sleeved red woolen underwear showed beneath his worn shirt. The too-large trousers, looking like hand-me-downs, were held up by plain gray suspenders. Chancy was gentle with Allegro, and it made Elise thankful that he was caring for their horses.
Elise climbed up on the paddock fence to watch for a moment. In her hand, she held her broad-brimmed straw hat by its ribbons. Berdeen had reminded her to be sure to wear her hat, but the warm sunshine felt delicious on her head, and Elise didn’t want to block that warmth with her hat.
“When do you think she’ll foal?” Elise called out to Chancy.
“Looks to be soon, Miss Elise. This week maybe.”
“I can’t wait,” Peter said, climbing up beside her. “I’m old enough now—I can help train it.”
“That would please Papa,” Elise told him, turning to go inside. She went to Dusty’s stall and fed her the apple, which the horse ate greedily. “You look like you’re ready to stretch your legs,” Elise whispered into the long, twitching ear. After giving the horse a good brushing, she took her into a paddock and walked her for a while. Peter did the same with his horse, Aleron.
As casually as she could, Elise said, “I believe I’ll saddle up and take a short ride.”
“Good idea,” Peter said. And as Elise expected, he added, “I’ll do the same and join you.”
“Aleron will appreciate the exercise, I’m sure,” she said, “but Peter, would you please ride somewhere other than where I do?”
The disappointed look on her little brother’s face made Elise wince. “Why?” he asked.
“I need to be alone,” she explained lamely. “I have some things that need pondering.”
“Does your pondering have to do with all those papers you and Verly have been writing? You’ve sure been secretive about it.”
Elise thought a moment. “In a way it does, yes.” She led Dusty toward the back stable doors. “And Peter, I want you to know our secret writing is going to include you.”
Peter’s face brightened. “You don’t say. Truly?”
“It’ll be a few weeks yet, but you’ll be included.”
That seemed to appease him, and he continued walking Aleron around the paddock. Elise hurried inside, saddled Dusty Smoke, tied on her hat, and mounted up. She hadn’t lied to Peter because some way, somehow, she fully intended to invite poor Mr. Finney to come to see their play.
As she rode down the lane to the road, she realized she wasn’t sure how she would find Mr. Finney’s cabin. But even if she never found it, she was happy to be out riding and enjoying the first signs of spring. The area past their house was largely undeveloped and featured thick stands of trees, each of which was beginning to sport tiny green buds. The road followed the trails that had been here since the first fur trappers came down the Ohio River.
A lively cottontail bunny hopped out in front of Dusty, causing her to stop suddenly and shy sideways, but Elise easily maintained control. She’d been riding for almost as long as she could remember. Even Papa said she was a good horsewoman. “You take after your mama when it comes to horses,” he’d said so often.
Before the war, Mama spent almost every waking hour in the stables, working with her favorite mounts. Now she seldom got out to the stables. She was much too weary after working long hours as a volunteer with Soldiers’ Aid and at the military hospital. The war had changed everyone and everything.
Elise spied the cabin after she’d been riding for about three-quarters of an hour. It wasn’t tucked back into the woods as she thought it might be. It sat only a few feet from the road. The simple planked-over log cabin looked like a relic from the past. There was no smoke coming from the chimney, and there was no gray speckled horse about. She pulled Dusty to a stop and sat for a moment, thinking. From her apron pocket beneath her cloak, she brought out her note. It read:
I don’t agree with those who say you’re a traitor. I’m sorry they say those things and sorry that you’ve been treated badly.
A friend, Elise
Urging Dusty forward, she slowly rode closer to the cabin. A tin washtub hung from a nail on the side wall, and the scrub board hung beside it. A cast-off wagon wheel lay beside the rickety front stoop. It appeared that repairs of the stoop were in progress. Fresh-cut lumber lay in a neat stack.
The front dooryard was mostly mud created by the heavy spring rains. Near the back door was a pile of split logs and kindling. The ax was embedded in a hickory stump where the kindling could easily be split.
“Whoa, Dusty,” Elise said softly. All of a sudden, her heart beat wildly. What if the man was here but hiding? What if he was angry and had a gun?
Then she laughed to herself. “Crazy imagination. The man I saw in Walker’s wasn’t an angry man but a hurt man.”
Between the house and the road was a sprawling hickory tree that had a couple rusty nails driven into the trunk. Possibly it had been put there to hang clothesline rope. With the note in her hand, Elise slid off Dusty and hit the ground. Keeping the reins tightly in her hand, she stepped up to the tree. She pressed the note over one of the nails, making a little tear that slipped over the nail head. Stepping back, she looked at it hanging there.
Satisfied, she remounted Dusty and rode home.
CHAPTER 6
A Spring Wedding
A week or so after Elise visited the cabin in the woods, the bells from churches and fire stations began ringing across the city. Silently, she prayed that it was good news. Papa and Samuel came home from town that evening with the news that General Grant had been named general-in-chief of the entire Union army by President Lincoln.
“It’s about time,” Papa said. He’d long been saying that the president needed to get rid of some of the generals who were only seeking their own glory on the battlefields. Many times Elise had heard Papa say, “We need a military leader who wants the war to be over—period.”
This appointment seemed to please Papa very much. A few days later, a letter arrived from Uncle George and echoed Papa’s sentiments. After the family finished their evening meal, Mama read the letter to them. Uncle George relayed how pleased the soldiers in and around Memphis were. The letter read:
To a man, we are cheering our new leader, General Grant. The men seem to have been infused with new hope at the announcement.
In February, our troops moved south to meet Sherman in Meridian in hopes of making a grand destructive swath through the South. But our troops met an angry Nathan Bedford Forrest, who had brought fresh troops from out west. That Rebel fights like a maniac. We were told even after Forrest’s own younger brother died in the fighting, it didn’t slow him for a moment.
Our men said they saw Forrest have two horses shot from beneath him, but he grabbed saber and sword and continued to battle on foot. Men will blindly follow a leader of that sort.
We all know that the South cannot hold out much longer. Their supplies and money are dwindling to a trickle. In spite of that, you have never seen such bold, daring, fearless fighters. They are all spunk and grit. It grieves me that their gallantry is all for naught. There’s no way they can win. It’s only a matter of time. And yet so many more lives must be lost in the process.
“I wish I could go fight,” Peter said when the letter was finished.
“Peter,” Elise told him, “don’t say such things. You’ll worry Mama half-sick.”
Mama reached over and patted Elise’s hand. “He just means he wants to help,” she said.
Elise shook her head. “How could anyone want to go into those places of killing and dying?”
“Our teacher says it’s a cause worth fighting for,” Peter replied, puffing his chest out just a b
it as he said it.
“Don’t you want the slaves to be free, Elise?” This question came from Samuel, who had a serious look on his face.
“Of course I do. And they are now. So why can’t the fighting be over?”
Papa said, “If we had that answer, we’d stop the war this minute. The truth is, those Rebels—whom we thought could be put down in a few days—have more fight in them than we ever gave them credit for.”
Berdeen came in just then to refill Mama’s and Papa’s cups of tea and to gather the dirty plates.
“It’s me own brother who sed the very same words to me when the bloomin’ Rebels first fired on Sumter,” she said. “He said ‘twould be a long, long war. Ernan was a-knowing more’n all them highfaluting generals put together.”
Unlike servants in other homes, Berdeen was free to speak her peace in the Brannon household. Papa never raised an eyebrow at her. She was like part of their family.
“Papa,” Samuel spoke up, “may I tell what Secretary Chase said in his letter to you?”
“You may.”
“Secretary Chase said too many of the Union officers underestimated the South and therefore didn’t start out fighting to win. If they had, the war would have been over by now.”
“Hanging onto what might have been,” Mama said quietly, “will never change today.”
“No,” Elise said, “but it sure ought to teach somebody not to let this happen again.”
“I doubt it ever will, Elise,” Papa said. “I doubt it ever will.”
The time Elise and Verly had to spend on play writing lessened as warm, sunny April made its appearance. Mrs. Boyd’s orders for sewing increased. She got some piecework contracts from one of the city clothiers that sewed uniforms for the Union soldiers. Even though Aunt Ella let Mrs. Boyd borrow the treadle sewing machine, there was a great deal to do. Verly, of course, had to help. She and Elise promised each other that they would work on the play only when they were together.
Now that the dogwoods were in bloom and the trees were greening, Elise was on Dusty as much as possible, taking long rides. Every once in a while, she would leave another note on the hickory tree at Mr. Finney’s house. She included funny stick drawings and a riddle or two. Since she could not expect him to reply, she penned the answer to the riddle at the bottom of the page.
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