‘‘Thank you, Meshach, we will never mention this again.’’ Jesselynn cupped the baby’s head. ‘‘Do we call you Lucy, for Lucinda is such a big name?’’
One by one the others tiptoed in and admired the baby. Sammy and Thaddeus stood back until Ophelia beckoned them to her.
‘‘See our baby girl?’’
‘‘Can she run?’’ Thaddeus leaned closer to Jesselynn.
Ophelia shook her head. ‘‘No.’’
‘‘Can she go fishin’?’’ The day before Thaddeus had been fishing with Daniel and caught five fish.
‘‘No. But someday.’’’
‘‘Can she play with sticks?’’
‘‘No. Not yet.’’
He looked up at Jesselynn. ‘‘Is she broke?’’
Jesselynn stooped down beside him. ‘‘She’s not broken. She was just born, Thaddeus. She has to grow some.’’
He shook his head, disgust in every line of his sturdy body. ‘‘We eat now?’’
‘‘Yes, dinner will be ready very soon. You two go on out and help Mrs. Mac.’’
Meshach chuckled and laid his cheek against Ophelia’s head. ‘‘I reckon dey don’ think much of de baby.’’ He looked down to see his wife and daughter both sound asleep.
———— Two nights later, Jesselynn and Wolf were just falling asleep in the tent they’d pitched down in the meadow near the grazing herd, when Jesselynn heard a voice. She crawled out of the tent and, looking up the hill, saw Meshach standing with something in his hands. She paused in the shadow while moonlight outlined him in silver.
He raised his cupped hands and looked heavenward, his arms strong and unwavering, his face radiant with glory.
‘‘Lord God, see my daughter, my daughter who is free. No slave but free!’’ His voice rolled over the land, his words ringing like cathedral bells. Like the angels who came to the shepherds, his voice spoke of freedom from fear. ‘‘My daughter, Lord, who is born free, named Lucinda after your servant, Faith after you, Highwood after our family, she be yours. She be yours.’’
The baby cried once but stopped as soon as her father gathered her to his bosom.
Jesselynn crept back to lie beside her sleeping husband, the tears continuing to wet her pillow long after she fell asleep.
Getting ready for the trip to the fort took weeks. October stayed warm with chilly nights as they all worked toward winter preparations. The horses to be sold were well trained and groomed to look their best. Trade goods, such as carved pitchforks, willow baskets, knitted stockings, buckskin shirts, braided rawhide bridles, and ropes took up wagon space. The three fattest oxen were chosen to sell for beef, and seven horses formed the herd to be sold.
The night before they left, the temperature plummeted, leaving the ground white for their early morning departure.
Nate and Aunt Agatha drove one wagon, Benjamin another, and Jesselynn the third. Wolf rode his Appaloosa, and Mark Lyons mounted one of the new mares. Daniel and Meshach stayed in camp with the others.
Jesselynn laughed at the sight of her breath in the air. The rising sun sprinkled the ground with gemstones, glittering every color of the rainbow.
‘‘Lord bless and keep thee.’’ Meshach raised his hand in benediction.
‘‘And you, also.’’ Jesselynn raised her gloved hand in return. ‘‘Be watching for our return in a week.’’ If it weren’t for the wagons, the trip would take two days each way, but because they needed to haul so much back, it would take longer.
‘‘We’ll throw a wedding party when you return,’’ Mrs. Mac promised.
Aunt Agatha laughed and ducked her head against Nathan’s shoulder.
As the wagons creaked out of the meadow, Jesselynn looked back over her shoulder. What a beautiful valley. Now to just keep it peaceful.
The closer they drew to the fort, the more traffic they encountered—army patrols, fort Indians, and other settlers who occupied land near the fort.
‘‘Sakes alive, never saw so many people,’’ Agatha said loud enough for Jesselynn to hear as she rode the mare alongside the wagons.
Jesselynn laughed. ‘‘We used to see twenty wagons all day every day.’’
‘‘I know, but that seems in another life. Like Springfield is a dreamland that I made up.’’
‘‘At least everyone will be reminded we are still alive.’’ Jesselynn patted her saddlebag that carried the letters she and the others had written. The next stagecoach would take them all east, and hopefully there would be letters with news from Richmond and Twin Oaks to collect at the post office.
Jesselynn paused for a moment. She’d started to think home in reference to Chugwater, but her mind often changed it to Twin Oaks. It was confusing. Had this outpost already become home to her? She pondered the question. Maybe it is that wherever Wolf is, is where my heart now calls home.
She looked across the herd to Wolf, who rode so effortlessly. As if he felt her gaze, he turned to look at her. Her stomach clenched, and her cheeks grew warm. Always his look had that power over her. She touched the brim of her hat with one finger. He touched his brim in return, a signal of love across the bobbing heads of horses. In her second saddlebag were rolled her skirt and a new waist sewn by Aunt Agatha. Wolf had yet to see her in her new finery. She’d been saving it for Aunt Agatha’s wedding.
Since the sun was about to set, they made camp a quarter mile from the fort, and Jesselynn and Wolf rode on in to make arrangements for the wedding and the trading. Bugle notes floated on the air as they rode into the parade ground. They stopped their horses and watched the Stars and Stripes ripple in the breeze as the soldiers brought it down for the night.
After folding the flag, the detail tied down the halyard and stepped back. They saluted, pivoted, and marched off in precise time with their officer’s orders.
As one, Jesselynn and Wolf signaled their horses forward, then stopped in front of the store and tied their horses to the hitching rail.
‘‘I’ll go see when the captain would like to inspect the horses while you place our order. Meet you at the Jensens’.’’ At her nod, he strode off to the quartermaster’s office, and she climbed the two narrow risers to the roofed porch. The bell tinkled over the door when she pushed it open, and the cornucopia of smells that said ‘‘store’’ greeted her entrance.
‘‘Why, Mrs. Torstead, good to see you. Y’all makin’ out all right up in that Chugwater country?’’ Sam Waters came from behind the counter to greet her.
‘‘We most certainly are.’’ She handed him her list. ‘‘Takes a lot to feed and care for all those people.’’
‘‘Like a village all your own, ain’t it?’’ He read down her order. ‘‘Why, looks like we got about everything. You need it all tomorrow?’’
‘‘Yes, thanks. There’s something else, though. You know anyone who has a milk cow for sale? I’d like a couple of chickens too.’’
‘‘Hmm.’’ Sam scratched his chin. ‘‘You might could ask out at the Breckenridge place. He raises and sells oxen to the folks goin’ west.’’
‘‘Where is that?’’
‘‘Off east of the fort. Cross back over the river and head due east about a mile or so—no, more like two. Tell ’im I sent you.’’ Sam looked down at her list again. ‘‘He and his family live in a sod house and dugout.’’
‘‘Thanks. Sure would like to have milk for the little ones.’’
‘‘You might could use a goat if he don’t have no milk cow. Goats is cleaner and don’t take so much feed. My wife runs goats out back. You could talk with her.’’
Jesselynn nodded, then swung her saddlebags off her shoulder. ‘‘I got mail to go out. Anything come for us?’’
He took her letters with a smile. ‘‘You goin’ to be right pleased.’’ Moving behind his counter, he pulled a thick packet of letters out of a cubbyhole. ‘‘I put McPheresons’ in with this too, along with Mr. Lyon’s. if’n you let me know about where you live, I could sometimes send mail out with an arm
y patrol, if they’re goin’ thataway.’’
‘‘Thank you, we’ll do that. Oh, and I have a lot to trade too. We’ll bring the wagons in early in the morning.’’
‘‘Fine by me.’’ He walked her to the door. ‘‘You might want to take time to look through our new shipment of cloth too. Just came in t’other day.’’
Jesselynn slid the packet of letters into her saddlebag as she left the store. She’d wait until they could all hear them together. But the temptation to peek dogged her all the way to the Jensens’ home.
Aunt Agatha and Nathan Lyons stood before the chaplain the next morning, with Jesselynn standing up for her aunt, and Wolf for Nate. As they said their vows, Jesselynn leaned forward enough to see Wolf, only to find him doing the same. The smile he gave her sealed their own vows all over again.
Strange, Jesselynn thought as she heard her aunt making the same vows she’d repeated so recently. A month ago she wouldn’t speak to us, and now we’re standing up for them. Lord, you sure do have a sense of humor. The word ‘‘cherish’’ leaped out at her. To cherish one another. Love, honor, and cherish. Lord, please show me how to cherish Wolf. I get so busy that I overlook things, things that might be important to him. How am I to know them?
She brought herself back to the matter at hand.
‘‘And now, may the Lord, who gives us so abundantly more than we think to ask, bless and keep thee in the way everlasting.’’
So all I have to do is ask?
‘‘I now pronounce you husband and wife.’’ The chaplain smiled at the newlyweds. ‘‘You may kiss your bride.’’
Jesselynn turned enough to see the red creeping up Aunt Agatha’s neck. Turning further, she caught Wolf ’s wink at her. Now her own neck was heating up.
‘‘The guesthouse is ready for you,’’ Mrs. Jensen said after congratulating the couple. ‘‘I made sure there is food for your supper all ready.’’
‘‘Land sakes, you didn’t have to go to all that trouble.’’ Aunt Agatha shook her head. ‘‘It’s not as if we’re young like—’’
‘‘Agatha, let us thank these wonderful friends of ours and be on our way.’’ Nathan took her by the arm, thanked them all, and away they went.
Jesselynn looked at Wolf, then at Mrs. Jensen. ‘‘Well, I’ll be. Did I really hear a ‘Yes, dear’?’’
They swung by the guesthouse shortly after dawn with the wagons loaded, including a pair of gray goats and a trio of chickens, the young rooster missing the stewpot by only a day. The way home didn’t seem so long when they had so many wonderful surprises to share.
Jesselynn was pretty sure her secret would get told soon. Each day made her more certain. She hugged her midsection with joy, hoping Wolf would be as delighted as she.
CHAPTER THIRTY - FIVE
Richmond, Virginia
October 1863
Dear Jesselynn,
Thank you so much for your letter. I was beginning to think you had fallen off the face of the earth. The poor mail service is frustrating at times, but I suppose it is one more thing for which we can blame the war.
Thank you for telling me such wonderful things about Thaddeus. It sounds like he has his uncle Zachary’s sense of humor. At least the way our brother Zachary used to be. Since our return from our last mission north—I wrote you about that time when Zachary was saved by a pardon from Mr. Lincoln—our stubborn, hardheaded brother cannot seem to get over the experience. When I revealed our angel in disguise to be President Lincoln, I thought Zachary was going to explode right then and there. At times I think he hates me for getting him released. He doesn’t seem to want to live anymore, at least that’s what he told me. Please help me pray that the brother we once knew will come back to us.
My news here is that I have met a man, thanks to the conniving of our sneaky little sister. She dressed me up one evening in a dress the likes of which I haven’t seen since before the war, and off we went to a soireé, where I was introduced to President Jefferson Davis and my hero, General Lee. My heart nearly jumped out of my chest when they both commended me for helping Zachary on our missions. I hoped their approbation would please Zachary too, since he received the brunt of it, but I wouldn’t know, because he hasn’t spoken to me since. The glares he sent my way gave me an indication of his feelings, however.
But in spite of all that, Major Wilson Scott asked to be introduced to me and then asked if he could call on me. We met him years ago, when Zachary brought him home from college to visit Twin Oaks. Carrie Mae was so excited she couldn’t quit talking about him.
He did come to call and charmed Aunt Sylvania all a-twitter. He is recuperating from a back injury and hopes to be rejoining his company soon.
Isn’t that the way of it? He seems a fine man, the kind Daddy would be proud to have come calling. Major Scott is from Tennessee. His father raised Tennessee Walking Horses, and like most of our horses, they were sacrificed to the war.
Louisa reread what she had written. Hmm, sounds like I’m enamored of Major Scott, and here I’ve only seen him three times. She continued her letter with bits about the men staying at Aunt Sylvania’s, Miriam’s antics, and her hopes for them to all be together again.
We miss you, and think of you every day. It pains me to think of how quickly life is changing. We have so little control. Therefore I commend you to the keeping of our Lord and Savior, who is far more able to keep you safe than I ever could.
Be assured that I pray for you all every day and always look forward to seeing your dear faces again.
Your loving sister
She signed her name and caught the tear that would have blotted the paper. If only she could share good news about their brother. If only the distance were not so great as to be impossible.
No, she reminded herself, with God all things are possible. Even bringing this family back together again. Even bringing Zachary back.
Somehow the latter seemed far more difficult than the former.
‘‘Miss Louisa, dat genneman be here to see you,’’ Abby announced from the French door leading out to the veranda where Louisa had escaped in hopes of finding a bit of breeze.
‘‘Show him out here.’’ Louisa looked down at her waist.
Should she change? She shook her head. Perhaps it was time for Major Scott to see her as she really was, not all groomed and polished like a horse readied for auction. She tucked a strand of hair back in the chignon she wore most of the time, since it was cooler, and wiped beads of perspiration from her upper lip. ‘‘Please bring out a pitcher of lemonade when you can.’’
‘‘He talkin’ wid de sojers.’’
‘‘Good. Perhaps he can cheer them up. Tell the men that lemonade will be served out here shortly.’’
Abby shook her head. ‘‘I don’ think dat a good idea. Why, de major come all dis way to be wid you, not all de others.’’
‘‘Oh.’’ Louisa sighed. ‘‘All right. I will show him the roses or something. I can’t keep the entire backyard for myself, now can I?’’
‘‘Not every day a fine genneman come callin’.’’ Having stated her obvious disagreement with Louisa, Abby spun fast enough to make her skirt swirl and returned to the house.
Louisa shifted her gaze from outer to inner. Was her heart beating just a mite faster? Her cheeks warmer? Unbidden, Major Dorsey strolled into her mind.
Lord, I cannot pay attention to that man. After all, he’s a Northerner, he’s military, and besides, I’ll never see him again. I loved Gilbert and he died. That’s what the war does—kills the good men. She amended the thought to men in general.
I don’t want to fall in love with an army man again.
But when Major Scott walked through the door, she had to admit he was a fine-looking man, with a voice deep enough to send shivers up her back.
‘‘I’m sorry to intrude like this, but I cannot stay more than a few minutes.’’
‘‘You are in no way intruding. I’ve just finished a letter to my sister who now lives
in Indian territory not too far from Fort Laramie.’’ Louisa knew she was babbling. She took a deep breath. ‘‘I take it you have news?’’
‘‘Yes, both good and bad, depending on how you look at it.’’ He tucked her hand through his arm. ‘‘Shall we walk and talk?’’
Louisa started to draw her hand away, but at the look of supplication on his face, she kept it on his arm. She hoped he couldn’t feel the way her heartbeat picked up.
Under the magnolia tree in the far corner of the garden he turned to look down at her. ‘‘My good news is that I’ve been reassigned to my regiment.’’
‘‘Oh.’’ What more to say? ‘‘I’m glad’’ would be a lie. ‘‘How sad’’ would hurt his feelings.
‘‘The sad news is that right now I’d rather stay in Richmond. I never thought I’d feel this way.’’ He took her hands in his. ‘‘Miss Louisa, would it be all right if I wrote to you?’’
‘‘Of course, sir, I’d be right honored.’’
‘‘And . . . and would you write back?’’
Louisa nodded. ‘‘I would. I know there is no guarantee my letters would get to you, but I will do my best.’’
‘‘That is all one can ask.’’ His eyes said far more than his lips, and the gentle pressure on her fingers added a third dimension.
‘‘Thank you, Miss Louisa, you have made me a happy man.’’ He sighed. ‘‘I leave as soon as I can get packed. Say a prayer for me, please. I feel I need all the prayers I can get.’’
‘‘Of course. Let me wrap some cookies for you to take along.’’
The two strode swiftly back to the house, and within minutes he was gone, a package of lemon cookies tucked under his arm.
Louisa leaned against the pillar post on the front porch.
Was she always destined to send men off to battle?
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