Sadie shivered and said to herself, Madeline, honey, you best get yourself back here, and quick.
About the time the first batch of biscuits came out of the oven, Sadie caught sight of Madeline, through the kitchen window, riding near the orchard in the direction of the barn.
Sadie knew where Madeline had been on her recent early morning rides. She didn’t need Nicholas’s suspicions that Madeline’s horse had not been ridden hard or for the length of time Madeline would be out riding. No, Sadie knew. She could see the sparkle in Madeline’s eyes and the rosy blush to her cheeks when she returned from her early morning rides. Madeline was meeting the handsome young Lieutenant Edson.
And Sadie prayed that Lawrence Taylor would never find out.
Madeline sat on the bench at the end of her bed and removed her riding boots. Sadie had prepared her bath. Madeline had noticed Sadie had been unusually quiet this morning but when she asked if anything was wrong, Sadie insisted all was just fine.
She undressed and slid into the warm bath, welcoming the relaxing water. She reached for the soap and lathered up, caressing her body, imaging she was again experiencing the warm and soothing hands of William Edson. God, how he made her feel like a sensual woman. She never dreamed she was capable of such deep emotional expression. She had never had anything even close to that deep emotion and sensuality in her relationship with her husband. Lawrence was not a tender lover. In fact, he was an indifferent, mechanical lover, as she now discovered after making love with William. As her hands moved across the curves and ins and outs of her body, she savored the sensual feelings, sighing and moaning at the pleasure, and reliving her stolen moments with William.
She soaked a little longer in the tub before stepping out and toweling off. She put on her undergarments and went to the closet and chose a dress, a simple one, yet beautiful. Beautiful, a word she now loved hearing from William. She felt beautiful when with him, really beautiful.
Before she stepped out from behind the hand-painted divider separating her bathing area from her sleeping area, she ran her fingers over the luxurious and ornate hand painted design. The divider was imported from Europe and Lawrence had paid a princely sum for it as he had for most furnishings in his home. She definitely was living in luxury, but now she knew it all meant nothing to her.
Damn, she thought, what am I doing here? She sighed, knowing she may be stuck here for years to come. She hated this war! She had wanted to go home to Iowa, but now, she wanted to go home with William, wherever that might be. She was in love. And she had no idea what she was going to be able to do about it. She feared William would be leaving any day. Their time was coming to an end and she could hardly stand to think about it.
She stepped beyond the divider and went to her desk. She had something important to do, even though feeling somewhat guilty about it. William had inadvertently given her some information about Confederate troop movement to the north. She had to get the information into the proper hands, and had to do so immediately.
As she began to write, she whispered, “Please forgive me, my dear William.”
Within the half hour she sent Sadie on her way to Mrs. Montgomery’s with a basket of jam and biscuits and a message for General Meade.
Chapter Nineteen: Thursday, the 27th Day of August 1863
Carrollton, Louisiana
Dear Companion,
It is again I write you a few lines to let you know where we are and how I am getting along. I hope this may find you all enjoying good health and pleasure. We are six miles above New Orleans and have been for several days. I think from the appearance of things we are to go to Mobile, AL soon. I expect we will go around by water. It seems as though the Western army has all the hard work to do but a few more hard battles and it will be played out unless recruited. I do not pretend to say the Rebs can stand a siege. The best of their army was as badly used up as ours was but such a siege at Vicksburg is death on both armies.
When we passed Port Hudson I was surprised to see such a looking place. I did not see any town whatever and to look at the place it looked like it was of no account to us or the Rebs. We did not stop at the place so I could not tell much about it. Dry goods and fishes of all description are tolerable cheap.
Yes, that was sad news about our cousin, Nelson. May he rest in peace. You didn’t say, but I want to know what token or symbol you folks had before Nelson died. Did it come in a dream?
I was glad to read in your last post that you were all well. Nothing gives me more pleasure in life than to hear such. Health is the foremost thing in life. Without it there is but very little pleasure and what is a person unless they can enjoy some pleasure. Without health they are one of the most miserable creatures living. I have tolerable good health at the present time.
We have one of the most beautiful camps I ever seen. It is as nice and green as ever you have seen on the Iowa prairie. Although it is level, it is nice and dry and has the appearance of a healthy place. It is kept very clean as the boys and girls gather up all the trash and stuff and it is thrown away by the soldiers and that keeps all the filth away. Citizens say it is very healthy here at Carrollton. They say it is a great deal healthier than at the city. I would rather live here than any place I have seen this side of Keokuk, Iowa. We have a breeze here all the time which makes it very pleasant. It is tolerably cool here at night. I can bear a blanket most every night. It is not as warm here at night as it is in Iowa summers.
You talk a great deal about furloughs. If you knew as much about furloughs as I do you wouldn’t write so much about it. Furloughs are hard to get. When I can get a furlough I will come home and see you. All but the boys from our corner will not get to go home. All the balance does. I must say it, you and Bill Thompson’s wife are considerable alike, always Ding Donging to come home on a furlough. I would like to come home and want to go as bad as you want me to come. You need not take any offense at this. I thought I would let you know that furloughs cannot be had whenever a person wanted one.
I want you to write me about the draft in Iowa and whether they are doing anything with it and how people stand on it and whether Randolph Bennett has a notion of war yet and how they are getting along by this time, and whether Turner has the rheumatis yet. I would be glad if this war was over with, so we could all go home. From the appearance of things at present I cannot see how it can last much longer. Where the Rebels have been enforcing their conscript law, citizens have been escaping it as much as possible. There are seventeen or eighteen deserters here from Mobile.
We heard news a few weeks ago about the draft riots in New York City. The poor and others doubted the wisdom of the war and even hate President Lincoln. I think it was the commutation fee and exceptions that caused the problem. It was unfair to take it out on the Negroes.
It was good news to hear that Lucinda is doing tolerably well now. I know it was hard for James to not be given a furlough to go home. Let me know how Benjamin does before the judge. Pap wrote me with news of that.
I must quit my scribbling for you will not believe half I have written. So no more at present.
From your loving husband,
Silas
Chapter Twenty: Alan Vance
The courtroom spectators were silent as the bailiff held out the Bible. For a moment she stared at it.
He instructed, “Please put your left hand on the Bible and raise your right hand.”
Although flustered and nervous, she obeyed.
He continued, “Do you swear to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth?”
She replied, “Yes, I do.”
The bailiff removed the Bible, turned and walked to the table opposite the jury box.
She lowered onto the wooden chair, her legs shaking. Her eyes swept over Benjamin seated at the defense table and beyond him to the people sitting in the gallery. A few faces she recognized, many others she did not. Every chair was filled. Others stood along the back wall of the courtroom.
The Judge cleared
his throat and leaned forward in her direction and said, “Please state your full name.”
“Lucinda Anne Garrison.”
Allan Vance rose from behind the prosecution table, adjusted his wire rimmed eyeglasses, brushed back his thinning hair and approached the witness box. He stopped three feet out, looked at her intently then said, “Mrs. Garrison, I realize this may be uncomfortable for you, as you claim to be a victim here, but you will have to excuse me if my questions seem insensitive. Do you understand?”
Lucinda nodded.
Judge Patterson again cleared his throat. “Please answer out loud, Mrs. Garrison,” he instructed.
“Yes, your honor.” She turned from the judge and looked directly at Allan Vance. “I understand.”
One corner of Vance’s mouth turned up slightly. He said, “Good. Now, you are married, is that correct?”
“Yes, I am.”
“And what is your husband’s name?”
“James Garrison.”
Vance asked, “You are a school teacher, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Garrison, he is a teacher also?”
“Yes. We have our school, the Learning School.”
Vance moved away from the witness box and walked toward the jury box, his back to her as he said, “I understand Mr. Garrison is away at war. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“He’s been gone a long time—”
Defense attorney, Jonathan Matthews spoke up. “I object, your Honor.”
Judge Patterson replied, “Overruled. Please answer the question, Mrs. Garrison.”
“He’s been gone several months.”
“And how many months might that be?” Vance asked.
Lucinda replied, “Since October of ‘62.”
Vance nodded and strolled back toward her, then said, “I see.” He paused a moment, adjusted his glasses, which had slid down his nose a bit. He walked alongside the witness box and leaned on it.
Lucinda automatically moved further back into her chair, trying for distance between her and Vance. She saw that same curl of the corner of his lip, and his eyes held a look of satisfaction. He knew he was intimidating.
Vance, his arm now extended and pointing to Benjamin Storm seated at the defense table, asked, “Do you know the defendant, Benjamin Storm?”
“I do.”
“And how do you know him, Mrs. Garrison?”
“He’s family.”
Vance moved away and turned toward the jury. “Oh. Blood family?”
Lucinda was aware all eyes in the gallery were on her. “No, he is of my husband’s relatives.”
“Is it true, Mrs. Garrison, that you were married once before you and James Garrison married?”
“Yes, I was for a short time.”
Vance turned back toward her and walked slowly toward the witness box. “Is it true that your first marriage ended in divorce?”
Lucinda heard the murmur of voices from the gallery. She replied, “Yes, it did.”
Vance pressured on, “And why was that?”
Matthews jumped to his feet, “I object!”
The Judge said, “Mr. Vance, I do not think the reason for Mrs. Garrison’s divorce has any relevance here.”
Vance calmly replied, “Your honor, I am laying the foundation that Mrs. Garrison has been involved with men of violence in her past.”
Judge Patterson paused thoughtfully before replying, “Overruled. Continue Mr. Vance.”
“Thank you, your honor.” Vance did not look directly at Lucinda as he asked, “Mrs. Garrison what was the reason for your divorce?”
“He was abusive.”
His eyes returned to Lucinda. “Abusive? In what way? Did he desert you?”
“No. He beat me.”
“He beat you? I see. It is somewhat unusual to obtain a divorce under circumstances—”
Irritated, Lucinda interrupted, “I said he beat me.”
Vance nodded, and moved in closer to Lucinda and asked, “What did he do, Mrs. Garrison, shove you around?”
Lucinda fought to keep her emotions under control. She wanted to lash out at Vance for his inconsiderate questioning and she could see many eyes on her as those in the courtroom awaited her answer. She controlled her voice as she said, “Yes, he shoved me more than once, and shoved me hard enough that I fell. Then, Mr. Vance, he kicked me several times, hard enough that it killed my baby.” Her voice rose a pitch, “I was with child and he killed our baby, killed it before it even had a chance to be born into this world!”
There was a gasp from the gallery, and Vance, caught off guard by her emotional response, nervously adjusted his wire rims.
She drew in a deep breath, exhaled, set her jaw, looked directly at Vance and said, “That is why I got my divorce, Mr. Vance.”
Judge Patterson spoke up, “Mr. Vance you have pursed this subject far enough. Please move on with your questioning.” Patterson leaned toward Lucinda and asked, “Are you all right to continue, Mrs. Garrison?”
Lucinda nodded, and answered quietly, “Yes, your honor.”
Vance’s lip curled up as he turned back to face Lucinda, his eyes seemingly lacking compassion. He said, “Mrs. Garrison, you say the defendant here, Benjamin Storm, is family to you. How long have you known him?”
Lucinda knew the question was coming and she felt her legs shaking again. She reached to steady her knees. “For quite some time,” she said, knowing her answer would not satisfy the prosecutor.
“And how long may that be, Mrs. Garrison?”
“Several years, prior to my first marriage.” Again, there was murmur throughout the galley and Lucinda caught the look of surprise on her mother-in-law Catherine’s face. She would have some explaining to do later, that she knew. She glanced at Benjamin and his eyes were humorous, yet tender. She quickly diverted her eyes from his.
Vance had a satisfied gleam in his eyes. “I see,” he said. “Is it not true that you have been romantically involved with Mr. Benjamin Storm?”
The courtroom was silent awaiting her answer and all she could hear was her own increased breathing. She had no choice except to tell the truth. “Yes, years ago, we were for a short time.”
Vance’s lip curled and he nearly broke into a grin. She glanced toward the jury but all faces were expressionless. She knew that answer did not sound good and could bring harm to Benjamin.
Vance moved around a bit, the plank flooring creaking beneath his feet. He said, “I see.” He paused a moment longer before asking, “You claim, Mrs. Garrison, to have been attacked and raped by your young student, Thomas Karns. Is that correct?”
Lucinda straightened in her chair. “I don’t claim, Mr. Vance. It is a fact. Thomas Karns brutally attacked and raped me.”
Vance nodded. “I see.” He turned toward the jury as he said, “Is it true that you encouraged his attention.”
Matthews was on his feet, “Objection! Your honor, the prosecutor’s line of questioning is out of order.”
Judge Patterson said, “Sustained. Mr. Vance restate your question.”
“Yes, your honor. Mrs. Garrison, is it possible your own actions may have encouraged the young man’s attention?”
“No.”
“I see. Did Thomas Karns often stay after school?”
“No, only occasionally, not often.”
“Oh, I see. And why did he stay after?”
“At times he did extra credit work and would turn it in to me or pick up his graded papers or get new extra credit assignments.”
“That could not have taken place during the school day, Mrs. Garrison?”
“No, not usually. All of my other students were much younger than Thomas and I could not interrupt my usual curriculum to focus on his additional need for extra work. At times his extra work included college level.”
“Then he was a bright student?”
“Yes, most of the time, but he could also be a problem student.”
“I see.
Problem because he would not complete work?”
“No, a problem because he often picked on the younger students and would disrupt the class. I’ve had more than one meeting with his parents about his unruly behavior. They had been warned that one more incident and he would have to leave our school.”
“Is it not a fact that you, Mrs. Garrison, enjoyed the company of this young boy in the long absence of your husband?”
“No, it is not a fact. He was my student and nothing more.”
Vance spun around, facing the defense table and pointing his finger at Benjamin. “Is it not a fact, Mrs. Garrison, that you were romantically involved with Benjamin Storm and he found you in a compromising situation with the young man, Thomas Karns. And in a jealous rage Benjamin Storm went after Thomas Karns and beat him to death!”
Voices rose in the courtroom and Judge Patterson pounded his gavel several times until the spectators quieted.
The objection of Defense Attorney Matthews was lost in the outburst.
With the returned silence, Judge Patterson said, “Overruled. Please answer, Mrs. Garrison.”
Prosecutor Vance returned his gaze to Lucinda.
She looked away from Vance and toward the judge. “The answer is no, your honor,” she said.
Vance’s lip twitched at the corner. He said slowly, “I see.” Nodding his head, he added, “No further questions.”
Over the next forty-five minutes, Lucinda answered questions from Defense Attorney, Jonathan Matthews, giving intimate details of her attack and rape.
Matthews introduced into evidence a medical report from Doctor Northland and asked Lucinda if she had previously read it.
“No, I have not,” she replied.
Matthews continued, “Mrs. Garrison, please read this report now. When you finish I want you to tell this jury if you know it to be an accurate account of your injures.”
She read the report over, handed it back to Matthews and answered, “Yes it is.”
Matthews said, “Thank you. I have no further questions of this witness, your honor.”
Corn Silk Days: Iowa, 1862 Page 17