The Long Way Home

by Lauraine Snelling

  ‘‘But she saved my life in dat town.’’

  ‘‘Thanks to your quick thinking, she’s not goin’ to die. So you returned the favor.’’ As Jesselynn spoke, she inspected the mangled hand. Two fingers gone, another might have to go by the looks of the shredded flesh, a deep gash at the base of the thumb. She looked up to Nate, who now cradled the woman’s head in his lap. ‘‘How long she been out?’’

  ‘‘Since before Wolf got here.’’ He sniffed, his thumb stroking Agatha’s cheek.

  Jesselynn bound the hand, tying a tight knot over the wrist. ‘‘You can let go now.’’ She glanced up at Daniel, who sat with closed eyes and mouth moving without sound. She knew he was praying. ‘‘Daniel.’’

  The young man slowly opened his eyes. ‘‘You sure, Marse?’’

  ‘‘I’m sure.’’ She watched her aunt’s hand as he released his thumb. No gusher. She sighed, relief evident in every line of her body. ‘‘Aunt Agatha.’’ She patted the woman’s cheek. ‘‘Aunt Agatha, can you hear me?’’

  A slight nod of the head. Nate leaned over and laid his cheek against her forehead.

  ‘‘You’ll be all right, my dear Agatha. You’ll be all right.’’

  Agatha murmured something and turned her face into the cupping hand, her eyes slowly opening. ‘‘Hurts some bad.’’

  Jesselynn uncorked the small flask of whiskey she kept for emergencies. ‘‘Here, drink some of this. It will help.’’

  ‘‘I don’t drink spirits.’’

  ‘‘Today you do.’’ A note of command in Nate’s voice caused Jesselynn to look up to Wolf, who smiled back at her.

  A slight nod and Agatha swallowed several times. Her eyes flew open and her good hand went to her throat. ‘‘Oh! You are tryin’ to kill me!’’ She coughed and gagged. ‘‘Water.’’ Wolf held the canteen to her mouth for several more swallows.

  ‘‘We can dilute that with this.’’

  Agatha shuddered. ‘‘No, thank you. I’m done with fainting now.’’ She tried to sit up, but before she could do more than make a motion, Nate had her propped against his knees and leaning back against his chest. Agatha looked at the bound hand and closed her eyes for only a moment. ‘‘How bad is it?’’

  ‘‘We’ll know more after we get you to camp and clean it up.’’

  ‘‘Then we better go.’’

  ‘‘Do you think you can ride?’’

  ‘‘If I must.’’

  ‘‘If you will ride in front of me, I can hold you secure.’’ Wolf looked her directly in the eyes when he offered. ‘‘Otherwise we will go for a wagon.’’

  Agatha looked up to Nate, and at his nod, she did the same. ‘‘Th-thank you. I will ride.’’

  Jesselynn knew her aunt well enough to know what this was costing her. ‘‘Daniel, switch my saddle to the Appaloosa.’’ She turned back to her aunt. ‘‘I’m going to bind that hand up to your shoulder, so you can’t bump it. All right?’’

  Agatha nodded, her face still white from the pain, her lower lip quivering the slightest bit.

  Jesselynn wanted to wrap her arms around her aunt and hold her close, but now was not the time for that.

  ‘‘I’ll go ahead and get things ready.’’

  Agatha reached for Jesselynn’s hand with her free one. ‘‘Be careful.’’

  Fighting the tears that threatened to flood her, Jesselynn raised her aunt’s hand and kissed the fingers. ‘‘I will.’’

  By the time Wolf made his way down the hill and into camp, Agatha was near to fainting again. Her eyes fluttered open when they stopped, and she slumped into Meshach’s waiting arms.

  ‘‘God be takin’ good care of you,’’ he whispered as he carried her to a pallet laid by the outside fire pit. ‘‘Me ’n ’Phelia been prayin’.’’

  Jesselynn had water boiling with her needle, thread, and scissors in it. Jane Ellen stood with the bottle of laudanum in one hand and the whiskey in the other, fighting the tears that seeped in spite of her efforts.

  ‘‘We takes good care of you.’’ Her smile wavered, but her words held firm.

  ‘‘I know.’’ Agatha lay down with a sigh. ‘‘Such a bother I am. But I wasn’t bein’ careless.’’ A trace of her normal asperity flavored her words.

  ‘‘I want you to drink some more of that whiskey. We can dilute it with water if you like.’’ Jesselynn shook her head. ‘‘Wish I had some honey for it to make it more palatable, but—’’

  ‘‘I can drink it if I must.’’ Agatha glared at the silver flask. ‘‘Let’s get this over with.’’ She held it in her own hand, swigged as much as she could before her eyes watered so bad she had to sniff, and her throat closed. She choked and coughed. ‘‘More?’’

  Jesselynn nodded. ‘‘Just think, Daddy and Uncle Hiram thought this the best sipping whiskey anywhere.’’

  ‘‘Well, Joshua and Hiram weren’t always known to have the best of sense.’’ Agatha took another swallow and sucked in a lungful of air. ‘‘Huh.’’ She blinked and closed her eyes. ‘‘I burn so bad inside, I won’t feel you work on my hand.’’

  Jane Ellen chuckled and rocked back on her heels. ‘‘You one fine, strong woman, Agatha Highwood.’’

  ‘‘I’m ready.’’ Agatha lay back and closed her eyes. ‘‘Don’t worry about gentle. Just get it done.’’

  Jesselynn handed her a bit of clean rag. ‘‘Bite down on this if you have to. It can help.’’

  With Nathan Lyons holding Aunt Agatha’s other hand and Wolf and Meshach ready to hold her down if necessary, Jesselynn unwrapped the mangled hand. Carefully she cleaned all the dirt and debris away and washed it with whiskey. She then sewed flaps of skin over the severed fingers and stitched up the slash on the thumb. While the third finger looked bad, once it was cleaned, she was able to set the broken bone, grateful to not see bone splinters. It didn’t look like the tendons had been severed either. When finished, Jesselynn poured more whiskey over the entire hand, took the thin wrapped board that Meshach handed her, and bound the hand to the splint.

  ‘‘Please, God, make this heal with no infection, so Agatha can have full use of her hand again. Thank you, this wasn’t worse.’’

  ‘‘Amen,’’ Agatha murmured from between clenched teeth. ‘‘Now, if I can have some of that laudanum, I will gladly and gratefully go to sleep. Thank you, all.’’

  Jesselynn stumbled when she stood, for her feet had gone to sleep. Wolf caught her and held her against his chest.

  ‘‘You did a fine job. No doctor could have done better, and most of them not as well.’’

  Jesselynn leaned against him. ‘‘That was a close one.’’

  ‘‘Yes, but as Agatha said, ’tweren’t her fault. She was bein’ careful.’’

  She could hear his chuckle down in his chest. What a miracle that this man could still care for Aunt Agatha in spite of the way she’d treated him and his wife. She looked up into his eyes. ‘‘You know, Mr. Torstead, you are one fine Christian man, and I am right proud to know you.’’

  ‘‘Thank you, Mrs. Torstead,’’ he whispered in her ear. ‘‘And I’m glad to know you, and the more often the better.’’

  She could feel the heat start low and race to engulf her face. ‘‘I better see to my patient.’’ She poked him in the chest. ‘‘And you, sir, mind your thoughts.’’ Her whisper was for him alone. His chuckle made her warm all over.

  Several days later Jesselynn walked into the cave and stopped, placing her hands on her hips. ‘‘Aunt Agatha, what happened to your sling?’’

  Agatha straightened from laying strips of venison across the drying racks. ‘‘It was in my way.’’ She poked her board-bound hand back into the sling of white muslin tied behind her neck. ‘‘There. Now are you happy?’’

  ‘‘Yes, although I’d be happier if you were to take it easy for a few more days.’’

  ‘‘I am takin’ it easy. If I went any slower, I’d be sittin’ down, and since I can’t knit or sew, I won’t sit.’’

&n
bsp; ‘‘As you wish. But the more you bump it, the longer it might take to heal.’’ Jesselynn left the cave before her aunt could have the last word. At least she was talking to them, oh happy day. And there was no sign of infection. Ah, Lord, you are so good to us.

  Sunday, after Meshach read the Scriptures and they’d sung several songs, Nathan spoke. ‘‘I would like to say somethin’, if’n you don’t mind.’’

  Agatha, sitting beside him, tugged on his shirt sleeve. ‘‘I’d like to speak first.’’

  Nate patted her hand. ‘‘If you want.’’

  Agatha stood up. ‘‘I have a confession to make, since the Bible says that we must confess our sins to one another so that we might be healed.’’ She held her wounded hand to her breast with the other. ‘‘All of you know how hateful I have been to Jesselynn’’—she nodded toward Jesselynn—‘‘and to Wolf.’’

  Another nod. ‘‘In my own defense, I have to say that I only believed what I was born and raised in. But Meshach, with his wisdom of the Word, and Na—ah, Mr. Lyons, with his persuasive tongue, have forced me to look at other parts of Scripture. Jesus said to forgive as we are forgiven and to love like He loves, with no mention of skin color or anything else, just to love our neighbor as ourselves.’’ She paused and looked skyward, a ploy that helped fight unwanted tears. Taking a deep breath, she continued. ‘‘I want to love God with all my heart, strength, and mind and my neighbor as myself. Therefore, Jesselynn and Wolf and each of you that I have wronged with my self-righteous ways, please . . . forgive me?’’

  Jesselynn stood and crossed to her aunt. ‘‘I forgive you if you will forgive me for being so angry at your bullheadedness.’’ The two hugged and sniffed together. Jesselynn took a square of calico from her pocket and wiped her aunt’s eyes. ‘‘I’m so glad to have you back. I’ve missed you terribly.’’

  ‘‘And I you.’’ Agatha turned to Wolf, who stood right behind Jesselynn. ‘‘And you, nephew, will you forgive an old lady blinded by color?’’

  ‘‘Most certainly. And I am honored to hear you call me nephew.’’

  Sitting back down, Jesselynn felt as if she were so light she could hover above the block of wood on which she sat. It seemed that if Wolf didn’t hold on to her, she might float away and go dancing with the breeze.

  Mr. Lyons stood beside Agatha. ‘‘And now I get to speak.’’ He took Agatha’s left hand in his. ‘‘I have asked Miss Agatha to be my wife, and she has said yes. We thought perhaps we could be married at the fort when we go for supplies.’’

  Jesselynn flashed an I-told-you-so kind of grin at her husband and rose to be the first to wish the couple well. Everyone crowded around, shaking hands, hugging, and laughing at one another’s teasing.

  ‘‘Where’s Ophelia?’’

  Jesselynn looked around. When had Ophelia left their gathering?

  CHAPTER THIRTY - TWO

  Richmond, Virginia

  ‘‘Has Zachary said anything to you about our trip north?’’

  Carrie Mae shook her head. ‘‘Not to me. I just know he is real unhappy.’’

  Unhappy doesn’t begin to describe our brother. But Louisa just nodded. No sense making Carrie Mae worry. It was unlikely they could do anything about Zachary, anyway, other than pray for him, of course. Why did that lately feel like such an exercise in futility?

  Louisa cocked her head. ‘‘Think I hear the baby crying.’’ She rose before Carrie Mae could move. ‘‘I’ll get her.’’

  Louisa admired the silk damask wall coverings and the walnut wainscoting as she made her way down the hall to the nursery. After the one cry Miriam had chosen to play with her fingers instead of setting up her ‘‘I’m hungry’’ howl.

  ‘‘You sweet thing.’’ Louisa lifted the baby from her crib and kissed the side of her smile. ‘‘Miriam, what will we do with you? You get prettier every day.’’ Laying her down on the padded dresser, she changed the baby’s diapers, dusting the little bottom with cornstarch and blowing on her rounded belly.

  Miriam cooed and waved her fists, legs pumping like she was ready to run.

  I wonder what my baby would look like if I— She stopped the thought in shock. Why, Louisa Highwood, you were going to add the major’s name. Whatever has come over you? She could feel the heat rising up her neck.

  ‘‘You won’t tell anyone, will you, sugar?’’ She patted the baby’s hands together and tickled her toes. ‘‘Ah, baby dear, I hope and pray you never have to go though a war like we’ve been having. Lord, please, please bring peace. I want a baby like this, a husband, a home. I want to go home to Twin Oaks.’’

  ‘‘So do I.’’ Carrie Mae stood in the doorway. ‘‘Not fair sharin’ secrets with her. She can’t pass them on.’’

  How long has she been standing there? A moment of concern about what Carrie Mae might have heard flickered through Louisa’s mind, but she brushed it away. Cuddling Miriam to her cheek, she turned to her sister. ‘‘Who better to share with?’’

  ‘‘Me.’’ Carrie Mae leaned against the doorjamb. ‘‘I feel like I live all alone in this big old house.’’

  ‘‘You have a brand-new house, servants, and a husband, and—’’

  ‘‘A husband who is never home, a brother likewise, and a baby who, sweet as she is, doesn’t carry on much of a conversation yet.’’

  Louisa studied her younger sister. Frown lines aged her forehead. While she’d regained her figure, her bounce had yet to return.

  ‘‘You know what, Carrie Mae?’’ Oh, Lord, here I go again. Give me the right words, please.

  ‘‘No, but I have a feeling I’m about to learn.’’ She crossed the room and pulled at the cord in the corner. ‘‘I’ll order tea so we have the sustenance to continue.’’

  ‘‘I’m not joking.’’

  ‘‘Neither am I. You take the baby. She’s going to want to eat any minute now.’’ Carrie Mae gave the maid who appeared at the door her instructions and motioned her sister down the hall. ‘‘You know, sometimes you sound so much like Jesselynn that I have to stop and remind myself you aren’t.’’

  ‘‘I think I’ll take that as a compliment.’’

  ‘‘And then I remember that she is clear off in the wilderness somewhere, and I prob’ly won’t see her again in this lifetime, and I get sorry for all the mean things I said to her.’’

  ‘‘She was just trying her best, like all the rest of us.’’ If only our best were good enough.

  When they were settled back in the parlor, with tea poured and Miriam making her little pig noises at her mother’s breast, Louisa stirred sugar into her tea with a silver spoon, wondering where such things came from anymore. She laid the spoon on the china saucer and, propping her elbows on her knees in a decidedly unladylike manner, sipped from her cup and studied her sister.

  Might as well say what she was thinking.

  ‘‘Carrie Mae, I reckon your trouble is this. You have entirely too much time on your hands.’’

  ‘‘Why, Louisa Marie Highwood, however can you say that? You have no idea how much time this baby takes. I’m just an old milk cow far as she’s concerned, and running a house like this—you know how hard Mama worked at Twin Oaks.’’

  Louisa sighed. ‘‘I know Mama worked hard. She ran an entire plantation along with the big house and made sure close to fifty people had food in their bellies and clothes on their backs.’’

  ‘‘Well, I have to entertain too, you know. Jefferson is always bringing home friends for supper, sometimes without even having the grace to let me know beforehand.’’

  ‘‘And how often have you cooked supper for these guests or cleaned up afterward?’’

  ‘‘My word, why would I do that? We have servants—and let me remind you they are not slaves—to do those things. Jefferson says we are doing our part giving these people a place to work, and’’—her voice rose—‘‘I think you are just horrid to talk to me like this.’’

  ‘‘You could knit, sew uniforms, and roll bandages like
the rest of us.’’ Louisa cringed inside at the tone of her own voice. Whatever happened to ‘‘A soft answer turneth away wrath’’?

  ‘‘Is that all? Why, you silly, I sent an entire box of rolled bandages over to the hospital just yesterday.’’

  And who did the rolling? But Louisa had a notion that those who worked in the Steadly home did the rolling in order to make their mistress look good and thus keep their positions.

  She’d not taken time to count the number of personal maids Carrie Mae had employed in the time since she and Jefferson had been married.

  Louisa sighed. ‘‘I’m sorry, dear sister. You just look unhappy, and I hoped to help that sad look go away.’’

  Carrie Mae put the baby to her shoulder and patted her back. A big burp made both women smile.

  ‘‘There now, sweet thing. That’s what we think of your mean old auntie’s ideas. We work real hard for the cause, don’t we?’’ In spite of the sugar-sweet words, the glare Carrie Mae sent around her daughter’s head could have ignited coal.

  ‘‘I’m sorry, Carrie Mae, I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately.’’ But Louisa knew that was an untruth. She did know what had gotten into her. She was sick of the war, sick of Zachary acting like he was, sick of being so far from home. When would it ever end?

  ‘‘You needn’t look so sad yourself.’’ Carrie Mae handed Louisa the baby. ‘‘Look at that smile and tell me anything in this whole wide world is more precious than that.’’

  Louisa cupped the baby with her hands and lower arms, elbows propped on her knees. Miriam smiled, her full, rounded mouth open, her eyes intent on her auntie’s. Rosy lips thinned as she struggled to make a sound, not a scream, but an answer to Louisa’s gentle baby murmurings.

  ‘‘That’s right now. You can talk with me, of course you can.’’ She nodded slowly, smiling and cooing back.

  ‘‘You two certainly can carry on some kind of conversation. Why, I’d think you knew exactly what she was sayin’.’’