The Long Way Home

by Lauraine Snelling

  ‘‘A wedding! Oh, Captain, we will have it right here.’’ Rebeccah beamed at her husband and then turned back to Jesselynn. ‘‘When? End of next week, of course. It must be soon if you are going to go north. Mr. Torstead, you are still going north, aren’t you? This is the most wonderful news. Wait until I talk with the chaplain, I—’’

  Captain Jensen put his arm around his wife’s waist. ‘‘You can tell we don’t get a lot of opportunities to have a party here. Now, Rebeccah, you must let Miss Highwood do some of the planning.’’ The smile on his face and in his voice brought matching smiles from the others.

  ‘‘I . . . I haven’t had time to think.’’ This is all so new. Oh, what have I let myself in for?

  Rebeccah took Jesselynn’s hands in hers. ‘‘I would consider it a great honor if you would let me take care of the wedding. I have a silk dress you could wear that has been languishing in a trunk, needing just such an occasion as this. Why, wait until I announce this to the ladies here at the fort, not that there are many of us, but we will have a marvelous time.’’

  Jesselynn could feel the warmth of Wolf standing right behind her. She leaned back just a mite to feel the solid wall of his chest holding her up. Getting control of the stampede seemed easier than this. At least those cows ran in a circle. The vibrations of a laugh in the wall behind her made a smile blossom, then bloom, and a matching laugh gurgled to the surface.

  ‘‘Ah, I hate to tell you this, but when my wife gets hold of an excuse for a party, man the barricades, ’cause that party will happen.’’ Jensen gave his wife the kind of look that brought a lump to Jesselynn’s throat.

  ‘‘Thank you.’’ She accepted the plate Rebeccah offered and took a bite. Not since she left Twin Oaks had she tasted anything so fine. ‘‘This is wonderful.’’

  ‘‘Thank you. Perhaps Clara will make your wedding cake from this recipe. But she makes a white cake that . . .’’

  Captain Jensen cleared his throat.

  Rebeccah shrugged at the twinkle in his eye. ‘‘I’m doing it again?’’

  He nodded. She tipped her head to one side and shrugged again, the laughter in her eyes and the merry dimples on either side of her mouth mute testimony to her joy.

  If planning a wedding brought such happiness to another, Jesselynn had no desire to deprive her of the privilege.

  When he set his plate down, Wolf nodded to his host and hostess. ‘‘Thank you for a most enjoyable evening. Someday I hope to repay the hospitality, once our home is built.’’

  Jesselynn hid a smile. Was this really the same man who so rarely strung more than five words together at a time? Another facet to the man called Wolf, the man she would spend her lifetime getting to know.

  A tingle ran from her toes to the top of her head. After all this time, she was indeed going to be married. And at Fort Laramie— Indian territory, of all places. If God himself had told her in advance this would be happening, she would have had a hard time believing Him.

  Since Wolf didn’t let go of her hand, she followed him to the door and out onto the porch.

  He took her in his arms and kissed her again. ‘‘That’s to remind you that no matter what anyone says, you will be marrying me in ten days.’’ With that, he stepped off the porch and strode away, fading quickly into the darkness.

  Jesselynn leaned against the newel-post and watched him go, one fingertip resting against her lips, as if to keep the feeling intact. When she returned to the parlor a few minutes later, Rebeccah sat with the lamp pooling light on the rich colors of the tapestry she was working on, her needle flashing.

  ‘‘Your bed is turned down and ready for you. Your Benjamin is sleeping out in our woodshed. Clara made him a pallet, even though he said he had his bedroll. Breakfast will be ready whenever you need to leave.’’

  Jesselynn sank down in a chair and shook her head. ‘‘I cannot thank you enough.’’

  ‘‘No.’’ Rebeccah leaned forward. ‘‘It is for me to thank you. Life is plain on an outpost like this, and to be part of your life brings richness to mine. We never had any children, so this is my chance to pretend that I have a daughter who is marrying a fine man, and we will all celebrate.’’ She took another stitch. ‘‘And to think that you will be living within two days or so of us. Why, we’ll practically be neighbors.’’

  Jesselynn hid a yawn behind her hand. With all that had gone on, sleep should be the last thing from her mind. However . . .

  ‘‘Thank you again, Rebeccah, but I’m afraid I must excuse myself. This is so different from what I planned. I thought to sleep in a hay pile somewhere, and that would be a luxury after the ground all these months. Four walls and a roof, windows, and a real bed. And the bath. I can never thank you enough.’’

  Someday, she thought. Someday I will have a home again, a safe home with walls and children and . . . The picture of the man who would lead that home made her face warm. She stood, bid her hostess good-night, and made her way up the stairs. A lamp on the nightstand made the room look even more welcoming than earlier. Her shirt and pants, washed and pressed, lay over the chair, and even her boots wore a shine. She hung the dress in the chifforobe, stroking down the skirt with a sigh. She pulled the nightdress that lay across the bottom of the bed over her head, and after blowing out the lamp, she slipped between sheets, real sheets, cool and crisp to the skin. Ah, such luxury. She was asleep after only three ‘‘thank-you’s’’ to her God, and all of them concerned Wolf.

  The ride back to the wagons gave Jesselynn plenty of time to stew over her upcoming discussion with Aunt Agatha. ‘‘Perhaps she has changed clear through, not just on the surface.’’

  Ahab flicked his ears back and forth, listening to her and still keeping track of the surroundings. He snorted.

  ‘‘I agree. I should have let Wolf come with me. Perhaps she will be happy for me.’’ Now she snorted. Her shoulders curved forward as if to protect her heart. He loves me. The thought brought a rush of delight, like pure springwater in a dusty land. Then the gusher died. He asked her to marry him, but never had he mentioned the word love.

  ‘‘You all right, Marse Jesse?’’ Benjamin rode up beside her.

  ‘‘I’m fine. You get some of the prairie chickens?’’

  He held up a brace.

  ‘‘Good. I reckon Ophelia will be right glad.’’

  Father, this is becoming a muddle. Perhaps we should have just found the chaplain, said our vows, and presented this as a fait accompli.

  If only Aunt Agatha . . . She brought that line of reasoning to a screaming halt. ‘‘If only’s’’ could drive one to distraction, and one isn’t any further ahead after hours of worrying and stewing than at the beginning.

  Jesselynn leaned forward and patted Ahab’s arched neck. ‘‘Perhaps that is why our Father told us not to worry, you think?’’ How come deciding not to worry and actually not worrying were so far apart?

  Ahab pulled against the bit, begging for a bit of a run. Ever since racing in Independence, he’d been begging to run again. She wanted to run all right—back the way she had come.

  Jesselynn and Benjamin met the wagons late in the afternoon of the second day of hard riding. Counting the wagons, she shook her head. Who had they picked up now?

  ‘‘Jesse back!’’ Thaddeus sang out his welcome, running ahead of Jane Ellen.

  Jesselynn dismounted and knelt to meet his running welcome. He flung himself into her arms, almost knocking her over in spite of how firmly she was braced.

  ‘‘Why you leave us? Where Mr. Wolf?’’ He looked over her shoulder as if she were hiding him, as if he might pop up like a jack-in-the-box.

  Jesselynn scooped him up and set him in the saddle without answering. ‘‘Now, you hang on.’’

  His stare of reproach made her smile up at him and jiggle his foot. ‘‘I know, you always hang on. A real Highwood you are when it comes to riding.’’ Patch met her with a yip and a doggy grin, his teeth gleaming white against his black fur and pink ton
gue. Keeping a firm hand on the reins, in case something spooked Ahab, she ruffled the dog’s ears, keeping her chin away from his lightning tongue. Anything to delay the coming confrontation with Aunt Agatha.

  ‘‘You find ’im?’’ Meshach rode up on Chess.

  ‘‘See me ride Ahab?’’ Thaddeus clutched a hank of matted mane.

  ‘‘Lil Marse fine rider.’’ Meshach answered the boy and at the same time sent Jesselynn a look pregnant with questions.

  ‘‘I found him.’’

  Meshach dismounted and fell in step beside her.

  Jesselynn sucked in a deep breath. Might as well get it over with. She dropped her voice. ‘‘He wants us to go north with him. He says there is good land, two days’ travel from Fort Laramie, where we could all homestead. He says there is a valley, good hunting, clear running streams, and . . .’’ She knew she was talking too hard and fast but couldn’t seem to stop the spate.

  When Meshach failed to answer her, she looked up into his face. ‘‘You would be a free man here too, with free land.’’

  They stopped walking, the wagons drawing closer with every plodding step of the oxen.

  ‘‘You don’t have to decide immediately.’’

  ‘‘What you not tellin’ me?’’

  Jesselynn rolled her lips together. ‘‘He has asked me to marry him.’’

  ‘‘Ahh.’’ Meshach looked down at her, a smile splitting his ebony face. ‘‘Thank de Lawd, dat man done come to his senses.’’ Meshach slapped his thigh with his hat, raising a dust cloud to equal that of a span of oxen. He stopped. ‘‘You did say yes?’’

  ‘‘I did. Mrs. Jensen is getting things ready. She’s the captain’s wife, my hostess for the night.’’ Please, Meshach, decide to stay. I don’t want to lose you and the others. Thoughts pelted around her mind like children just loosed from lessons. Meshach, answer me. The cry nearly broke from her heart, taking all her strength to suppress it.

  ‘‘So, Jesse, how did you fare?’’ Agatha, driving the lead wagon, always wore her sunbonnet well forward to protect her face, so now she pushed it back the better to see her niece. After her careful scrutiny of Jesselynn’s face, a frown wrinkled her forehead. But without commenting, she nodded over her shoulder. ‘‘Mrs. Jones has asked if she can travel with us. Both her husband and his brother seem to have met with some disaster, as they never returned to their camp. Strange, wouldn’t you say?’’

  Jesselynn shrugged. ‘‘Fine with me, so long as she is alone. Either of the men show up, and none are welcome.’’ At least she knew one of them wouldn’t.

  ‘‘I said the same, but she seemed fairly positive that would not be the case.’’

  Jesselynn looked toward the last wagon. Most likely she should go talk with Mrs. Darcy Jones. Had she found her husband’s body? And what happened to Rufus? For a moment, curiosity drove thoughts of Wolf right out of her mind.

  ‘‘Me ridin’!’’ Thaddeus couldn’t resist lording it over Sammy, who wriggled on the seat by Ophelia as she drove the second wagon.

  Gratefully, Jesselynn switched her attention to her little brother. ‘‘Not anymore if you cannot be more considerate than that.’’ She reached up and dragged him off the horse.

  ‘‘Jane Ellen, would you please take him back?’’ She glanced over at Meshach. ‘‘And if you will give Sammy a ride, perhaps the young marse will learn better manners.’’

  Meshach did as she suggested but without the smile that would ordinarily greet such a comment.

  Sammy, sitting in front of his adopted father, crowed with delight. ‘‘Go, go.’’ With one arm around his son, Meshach walked his mount alongside the wagon, where Ophelia said something that made both man and boy wear matching smiles.

  Jesselynn remounted. ‘‘Think I’ll go help with the herd.’’ She could feel her Aunt Agatha’s gaze drilling into her back, unspoken questions bombarding her like a flock of small birds chasing off an offending crow.

  That night when they stopped for the evening camp, Aunt Agatha handed Jesselynn a cup of coffee and sat down on the wagon tongue beside her.

  ‘‘Now, are you going to tell me what transpired at the fort?’’

  Jesselynn sipped at her coffee. ‘‘I stayed with Captain and Mrs. Jensen, had a real bath, and slept in a bed.’’

  Agatha sighed. ‘‘Now that does sound like a long-lost privilege. No wonder you look so fresh. Just getting this dust off a body would be pure bliss.’’

  How do I tell her?

  ‘‘So, what did he say?’’

  ‘‘Who say?’’

  Agatha looked at Jesselynn as though she thought her niece had left her senses on the trail somewhere. ‘‘Mr. Wolf, that’s who you went looking for, right?’’

  Jesselynn sat up straighter. ‘‘He asked us to go north with him instead of going on to Oregon.’’

  Silence fell around them, as if everyone had quit breathing.

  ‘‘Why ever would he do that?’’ Agatha turned slowly to stare at Jesselynn. ‘‘What is it you are not telling me?’’

  Jesselynn felt her stomach twist into a half hitch, then a double knot. ‘‘I agreed to marry him.’’

  ‘‘Marry him?’’ Aunt Agatha sucked in a breath that wheezed around the constriction of her throat. ‘‘Marry a half-breed?’’ Her voice deepened. ‘‘A man of color?’’ Thunder rumbling in the distance could not have reverberated more. ‘‘No one! No woman in our family has evah’’—her chest swelled. Her face mottled—‘‘evah had truck with a man of colah!’’

  CHAPTER NINE

  Richmond, Virginia

  ‘‘Taxes! Don’t they know there’s a war going on?’’ Zachary fumed.

  Louisa was beginning to wish she’d never told her brother the news. What good did it do? He couldn’t go back to Twin Oaks. If he entered Kentucky he’d be shot as a spy. And what did they have to pay the taxes with? Nothing. Unless he had some money stashed away, and that she very much doubted.

  ‘‘I imagine they plan on financing the war with our tax money.’’ Seeing the look on his face, Louisa wished she’d kept her mouth shut. If that were true, it would be a short war considering the state of their finances.

  ‘‘We can’t lose Twin Oaks.’’ Zachary slumped in the chair as if all the air had gone out of him, or at least all the starch.

  ‘‘Surely they wouldn’t foreclose on someone who served in the army like you did, now wounded and not able to go home.’’ She rose and paced to the other side of the room, her steps more agitated as she strode. ‘‘And both Daddy and Adam killed. And the place burned to the ground by a Confederate officer.’’ She held up her hands to stop his objection. ‘‘I know we can’t prove Dunlivey did that, but we all know it, sure as summer brings mosquitoes.’’ She spun at the far wall and paced back again. ‘‘So what are we going to do?’’

  ‘‘We are going to do nothing. I am going to speak with our brother-in-law. Perhaps he can send a letter that will change their minds. He has high connections. He can use them for the family.’’ Zachary levered himself out of the chair. ‘‘First thing in the morning. As for now, wasn’t there some peach pie left over from supper? I think that would taste mighty fine.’’

  ‘‘But—’’

  ‘‘No ‘but’s’. Let me at least handle this.’’ He turned back after stumping to the doorway. ‘‘I think I will talk with Jefferson about a position with his firm. Surely they will realize their need to employ an ex-soldier who, while missing limbs, is every bit all right in his mind.’’

  Louisa watched him leave the room. That surely did answer one of her questions, the one that asked how this recuperation time was affecting her brother. More questions buzzed in her mind like a nest of enraged hornets. How would he get to an office every day? What would he wear? Could he manage a job? And most of all, why hadn’t Jefferson offered him one earlier, or at least promised something for when Zachary felt ready?

  Like a hornet, she felt like stinging someone, anyone who crossed her path at
the moment. If Zachary were working, how could they go on another mission?

  Before going to sleep, she sat down to write Lucinda a message reassuring her that Zachary would find a way to meet the tax obligation. She only wished she felt as positive as she sounded. She’d thought earlier about the silver and other valuables buried in the rose garden. Jesselynn had written, in a roundabout way that took some deciphering, about the family treasures buried. She wanted Louisa to know about it for when the war ended. But in case someone intercepted the mail and read the letter, Louisa could think of no way to tell Lucinda to dig up and sell what she needed. And knowing Lucinda, she would starve first. So Louisa simply filled her in on the news, closing with . . .

  Carrie Mae looks to be having twins. She is so large, but perhaps it only seems that way because she is typically so slender. We all wish you could be here to care for her and the baby and thus continue family traditions. Thank you for all the work you and Joseph are doing to keep Twin Oaks going. Someday, when the war is over, we will come home, and we will all be together again.

  With love and God’s blessing, I remain

  Again she signed her name, this time including Zachary and Aunt Sylvania.

  Louisa brushed the quill back and forth under her chin. Ah, if only she could get on a train and, no matter how roundabout the trip, return to Midway, and home to Twin Oaks. To walk again between the two ancient oaks at the end of the drive and on up to the big house. There was no way she could picture the house burned, with only the brick chimneys standing, as their neighbor had written. Or no horses grazing the pastures, or no rolling sweeps of tobacco fields.

  After sealing the envelope Louisa knelt by her bed and opened her Bible to Psalm 91. Ah, Lord, I know we are safe and secure under your mighty wings, but so many of our boys believed that and were killed anyway. Not that I’m not looking forward to heaven and your presence, you understand, but the agony has gone on and continues. And now Zachary disavowing his faith. O Father, do not let him go. Please hold him under your wings and in your camp with angels round about. She read more about fiery darts not assailing and not even snakes or young lions. She closed her eyes and repeated the words from memory, branding them into her soul for when she needed them.