Leaping off the bench, worried about what she was about to say, he greeted her with a hug. She gave him a radiant smile and kissed both Will and Bertie warmly. Wes was afraid to ask the question, but Will looked around the platform.
“Where’s Ginnie?” he asked.
Wes watched her sister’s face closely for a reaction. She looked for a moment at Will before turning to Wes. “I’m sorry, Wes. She’s not coming.”
He nodded stoically but the burst of disappointment hit him like a physical pain. For months he had imagined how he would feel when she arrived, the pleasure it would be to show her his home and his new life. Yet he had always fretted that she might not come, that something would happen at the last moment to ruin everything. His secret fear was that she might not want to come, that in the four years since he had left Gettysburg she had changed her mind about their plans.
After retrieving Julia’s bag, Bertie and Will took her hands and led her off the platform, Wes following a few paces behind. They walked the short distance to Will’s home while Julia related all the latest news from Gettysburg. Wes, trying to deal with Ginnie’s absence, longed to corner Julia for a moment to learn the reason.
Salome greeted them warmly at the door, giving Julia a big hug. Then she stepped back, looked around in puzzlement, and asked, “Where’s Ginnie?” She searched Wes’ face, but he could only avert his eyes.
“She had a problem at the last moment,” Julia said, trying to cover the awkward moment. “She felt really badly that she couldn’t come. She’d been so looking forward to the trip.” She glanced at Wes sympathetically. Then, trying to divert the conversation, Julia looked at Salome with a smile. “Bertie is just beautiful. He’s so grown up I hardly recognized him.”
Salome leaned close to Julia and said in a whisper, “I’m going to have another baby in March.” Julia squealed her excitement and the two women walked into the house together. It was not until after supper that Wes and Julia finally had some time alone as they walked together to visit his rooming house.
Julia sighed. “I’m so sorry it turned out this way.”
“What happened?” he asked impatiently.
“It’s her mother. She told Ginnie at the last minute that she couldn’t come. Something about the presidential election and the South being too dangerous to visit now.”
“What?” Wes exclaimed angrily. “Too dangerous? Danger from who?” He shook his head in exasperation. The country was full of agitation about the election. Many southerners were violently opposed to the idea of Abraham Lincoln, an abolitionist, becoming President. With the vote only a few weeks away, several southern states implied that his election would result in their secession from the Union. However, none of this, in Wes’ mind, had anything to do with Ginnie’s trip.
His anger flared. “I can’t believe this. That old woman doesn’t know what’s going on down here. Anyway, the election isn’t ‘til next month. Maybe some people in the far South will be upset, those who own the slaves. But do you see any slaves around here?” He swept his hand out toward the town. Julia shook her head meekly. “No!” he said, answering his own question sarcastically. “That’s because there aren’t any. People around here are too poor, and lots of them even oppose slavery. Hell, there are more blacks in Gettysburg than there are here.”
“But they’re free blacks, Wes,” she said quietly.
“I don’t care what they are,” he yelled. “Nobody knows what’s going to happen. It’s all guesswork. And it has nothing to do with Ginnie and me.” He shook his head, then sighed again. “That woman hates me, Jules. No doubt about it.”
“Surely not, Wes.”
“Yes, she does. She has it in for me. She doesn’t think I’m good enough for her daughter.”
“Oh, Wes, that’s not true.” Julia looked at him with a sisterly compassion in her eyes. “But it doesn’t matter whether she likes you or not, so long as Ginnie still does. She’ll be eighteen next year, and then she can make up her own mind.”
Wes looked at her urgently. “Does she still like me?”
Her eyes softened with affection. “Of course she does! When she came down to the station to see me off, she was in tears. She was that disappointed.” This assurance pacified Wes somewhat but it did nothing to dim his anger toward Mary Wade.
As they rounded the corner near the boarding house, Wes saw Ben sitting on the porch waiting for them. Wes noticed him eyeing Julia.
As they walked up on the porch, Ben rose and came toward them with a broad smile. Wiping his hand on his pant leg he offered it to Julia and, before Wes could make the introduction said, “You must be the lovely Ginnie.”
Blushing in amusement, Julia responded gamely, “No, I must not be,” but shook his hand regardless. Ben frowned at Wes in a silent question.
“Ben, this is my sister Julia. Julia, my friend Ben Pendleton. He works with me at the factory.”
“And I play soldier with him in the Guards,” he said, the self-assured smile back in place. He turned to Wes. “So, where’s this mysterious Ginnie of yours hiding?”
Wes smiled ruefully, his embarrassment at Ginnie’s absence replaced by the knowledge that it had been beyond her control. “She won’t be joining us, unfortunately. The climate here is not to her mother’s liking – the political climate, that is. Perhaps she’s afraid her daughter might catch the southern bug and never go home.”
Ben looked confused again, but Julia smiled at Wes and said, “Well, at any rate, I’m happy I’m here.”
Wes put an arm around her shoulders and hugged her. “I’m glad you’re here too, Jules. I’ve missed you.”
“Well, Miss Julia,” Ben said, “I’ll make it unanimous then and say that I am also very happy that you’re here. If you were Ginnie, Wes would have kept you to himself. But since you are his sister, perhaps I can intrude and help Wes show you around our fair city.” He was looking at Julia with obvious interest.
“It would certainly be no intrusion, Mr. Pendleton,” Julia responded coyly.
Ben switched his attention to Wes. “Have you told her about the dance?”
“Dance?” Julia exclaimed, turning to Wes with an inquiring look.
Ben hurried to explain. “The Guards are throwing their annual ball at Rodger’s Barn this Friday. I was afraid for a moment that, if you were the fair Ginnie, this hound would already have filled your dance card. Perhaps, now that I know your true identity, you would be so kind as to reserve the first dance for me?”
Julia blushed, but could not help smiling broadly. “I should be happy to keep that space available for you, Mr. Pendleton. Providing, of course,” she added, turning to Wes, “my brother assures me that I will be safe in your hands.”
Wes scratched his chin thoughtfully, examining Ben out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t know,” he said. “He could be one of them secessionists. We’ll have to keep an eye on him.”
Ben laughed, said his goodbyes, jumped off the porch and, with a final wave, disappeared around the corner. Wes watched him go. “I believe Ben has taken a fancy to you, ‘Miss Julia.’” She slapped him on the shoulder in rebuke, and they went inside to examine his room.
The next days flashed by for Wes who kept busy during the day at work and at night escorting Julia through town, usually in Ben’s company. Wes found it amusing to watch his friend rushing to open every door for Julia or offering her an arm up and down even the smallest steps. For her part, Julia was properly cordial to Ben, not wishing to seem unladylike in front of strangers. But Wes, who knew her well, noted the bounce in her step whenever Ben was near.
The day of the ball finally arrived. Wes stopped by to see Julia on his way to work and found her already up and barraging Salome with questions: how she should do her hair, what color her bouquet should be. Julia barely nodded at Wes, completely occupied with a myriad of details that he found trivial. When Wes came back for dinner eight hours later, the conversation was still in progress. Wes went home after dinner to change int
o his Guard’s uniform, then returned to wait for Julia. Standing in front of the parlor looking-glass, he admired the Guard looking back at him: steel gray uniform trimmed in yellow lace, white epaulettes, blue cap with its white plume. He smoothed his hair into place and patted his whiskers to even out his scraggly beard.
Will came in and caught him preening. “Look at the soldier boy,” he said sarcastically. Wes eyed him in the mirror hoping that his brother would not start another argument about the Guards. Will had considered joining the group when they first arrived but, along with the others from Gettysburg, had been disenchanted by what he saw. The Guards had a reputation for wild escapades when they were in uniform. Also, their extremist politics were the cause of much discussion, and they were generally thought to have been responsible for an incident a month ago in which the crops of a local abolitionist had been burned. A number of other charges, none of them proven, had been privately laid at the Guards’ door across the years. But the locals, many of whom agreed with the actions, never made any formal complaints.
“Do you think Julia will be safe among all those uniforms this evening?” Will asked innocently. Wes knew his brother was trying to bait him, but he refused to give him the satisfaction.
“I’ll do my best to protect her.”
Walking up to him at the looking-glass, Will pretended to straighten the braid on Wes’ shoulder. “Don’t you feel a little funny…” he asked.
“Don’t start!” Wes growled. He walked out onto the porch to wait for Julia.
After an hour, he grew so impatient that he climbed the stairs to look into the master bedroom where she was dressing. His knock was answered by Salome who assured him it would be only a few more minutes. With a sigh he sat down again in the parlor. Will threw him a rueful smile. “You can’t hurry them, Wes.”
There was a knock on the door and Ben stuck his head in. “Are you still here, Wes?”
“What’s it look like?” Wes answered in a frustrated tone. “Come on in and join the party.”
“I couldn’t find you at the barn so I thought you might still be here.”
“Good guess,” said Wes, shaking his head. “She’s only had since morning to get ready. Maybe you ought to come back next Wednesday.”
Ben wore a uniform identical to Wes’ and, as he walked into the parlor, Will stood and saluted him. Ben, immune to this sort of ridicule, grinned and returned the salute before flopping down in the chair across from Wes.
“Well, do you think she might have escaped out a back window?” Ben asked at length, looking at the grandfather clock when it chimed the quarter hour. “Did you give her a bad report on me or something?”
Wes shrugged. “She said she’d be ready in a few minutes.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Half an hour,” Wes answered with a straight face, prompting a laugh from the others.
Eventually Salome appeared, hurrying down the stairs with an air of suppressed excitement. The three men stood quickly as Salome stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned to look back up. Julia appeared and began her descent with the poise and charm of a princess. Wes glanced at Ben who stood like stone, spellbound by Julia’s radiance.
Her gown was gorgeous, white with hints of yellow under the lace that covered her arms. The bottom of the dress flared outward with the help of hoops, giving the impression that she floated as she moved into the room. Her bonnet was of matching fabric, topped with a yellow rose similar to the flowers in the corsage on her wrist. She curtsied fetchingly as all three chorused their praise.
Will, who kept one of the Hoffman wagons at home to run errands for the shop, had hitched it to his horse. Ben helped Julia up onto the seat alongside Will, then clambered up and sat with Wes on the floor boards behind the seat. Will snapped the reins and they were off.
They arrived after a few minutes’ ride and, climbing down, bid farewell to Will. The threesome set off toward the lighted barn with Julia in the middle. Several of the Guards were milling around the doorway chatting with each other. All conversation stopped, however, as their eyes settled on Julia. She did her best to ignore their stares by talking with great animation to her escorts.
The interior of the barn had been carefully cleaned and was decorated with streamers and bunting. Chairs sat along the sides and a large table at one end bore an enormous punch bowl. There were at least thirty of the Guards already in attendance and an equal number of ladies.
“I’ve never seen so many pretty gowns,” Julia exclaimed. Her eyes flew around the room taking in the excitement.
Ben smiled. “But none to match yours, Miss Julia.”
“How gallant you are, Mr. Pendleton.” The brief flush on his sister’s cheeks did not escape Wes’ notice.
A reel began, the music floating down from a hay loft overlooking the dance floor. A number of couples formed lines facing each other and began the dance. Ben offered his hand to Julia. “May I have the pleasure?” he inquired, dipping his head in a slight bow from which he peered at her beseechingly from the corner of his eye. Julia laughed and took his hand.
Wes, left to himself, poured a glass of punch and carried it to a corner of the barn to view the dancing. There was something formal about the night, as if the Guards were playing their part in some traditional drama. He had seen them drunk and into mischief, he had seen them ankle deep in mud out in the fields. But tonight they looked like proper gentlemen and Wes felt tremendous pride that he was one of them. His pride was tempered with sadness, however, that Ginnie was not there to see him among his friends.
After several more dances Julia and Ben rejoined Wes, laughing about some private joke. “Oh, Wes,” she cried, “are all your friends such good dancers?” Wes couldn’t recall seeing her quite so happy.
Ben indicated a corner of the barn to Julia. “Did you see the picture of Colonel Hamtramck? He always came to these events since he organized the Guards. But he died two years ago, and we really miss him.”
Wes walked Julia over to examine the photograph. Splendid in his dress uniform, the colonel’s chest was laden with medals and ribbons from his military service in Mexico. His white whiskers gave him an air of regal authority which Wes greatly admired.
Julia grabbed Wes’ hand, stirring him out of his reflections. “Come on, big brother. We have to get you onto the dance floor at least once tonight. If you don’t do it now, my card will be filled.”
On the floor they moved to the sounds of a slow waltz, swirling around with the other couples, enraptured by the setting and the night. “Oh, Wes,” exclaimed Julia, “there’s nothing like this back in Gettysburg.” Wes had never danced with his sister before, and was amazed at how accomplished she was. She smiled up at him. “I like your friends, Wes. I’m sorry Ginnie couldn’t come. Her mother was wrong, you know. These people are marvelous.” Wes nodded.
They danced for a time in silence until Wes put a troubling thought into words. “Do you think I’m a fool, Jules?”
“What do you mean?” she asked, frowning.
“I mean, do you think I’m good enough for Ginnie?”
“John Wesley,” she scolded. “You are certainly good enough for any woman. Ginnie would be crazy not to wait for you.”
As the evening progressed, Julia grew tired from dancing and the threesome found a quiet corner in which to sit and talk. “This has certainly been an education for me,” she admitted.
“What do you mean?” Ben asked attentively.
“Well,” she said slowly, “you know all the rumors that are flying around. People think that you’re all hot-heads down here. Some people don’t like the fact that Wes has joined the militia. They think it’s not patriotic.”
Wes snorted. “Let me see if I can guess who. Mrs. Wade.”
But Julia was suddenly serious. “No, Wes. Lots of people. They’re scared of what may happen.”
Ben asked pointedly, “And what do you think about us?”
“I’ll have to go home and tell th
em that you’re as nice a group of gentlemen as I’ve ever met.” She nodded her head emphatically. “But this talk of war frightens me.”
Ben pulled his chair closer. “Miss Julia, may I try to explain that to you?” he asked earnestly. “I don’t think there’ll be a war. Not unless the people in Washington start it. We don’t want a war. We just want to be left alone. And if there is a war, it will only last a day. All of us’ll stand at the line between the Federal states and the southern states, and when the army sees us they’ll go away and let us live in peace. At least, that’s my hope.”
Julia thought for a moment. “May I ask you a question, Mr. Pendleton?”
“Ben, please. Of course.”
“Ben. What about the Guards? Isn’t the reason you have the Guards so you can fight against the army if there is a war?”
Ben pondered how to answer that loaded question. At length, he asked Julia, “If you were traveling and someone asked you where you were from, what would you say?”
Julia was confused by the question, unable to see its relevance. “Why, Pennsylvania, I suppose.”
“Exactly,” he went on, “and I would say Virginia, not the United States of America. Virginia and Pennsylvania existed long before the United States did. When the government was formed, it was with the idea of equal representation among the states, that no one state would have more power than any other. Now there are people in the North who want to change that, who want to tell the South what’s right and wrong. I wouldn’t presume to tell some New York banker what to do with his money, so why should he decide what’s right and wrong about my business?”
“But do you think it’s right to own another man or woman?” Julia asked.
“Slavery?” Ben scoffed. “Slavery has nothing to do with this. A few powerful leaders in the North are using slavery to get their people all worked up. Most of those men once owned slaves of their own, so how can they be so hypocritical as to tell the South to get rid of theirs?”
Wes had never seen his friend so worked up. Ben was pleading for Julia to understand. But she frowned, troubled by a new thought. “So the Guards would fight if it came to a war?”
The Calm and the Strife Page 6