“It’s so complicated, Tyler!” Frankie protested. “If just one part of it goes wrong, the whole thing will break down.”
“I know it,” Tyler answered gloomily. “This kind of thing is an obsession with Pinkerton, I think. He gets too clever and thinks that if a plan is complicated enough, it’ll confuse the Rebels. Trouble is, this thing is so blasted complicated that it confuses me!” He sighed heavily, then added, “Well, what do you think?”
Frankie sat there trying to think, but she was aware that her heart was not in any of this. From the first she had agreed to help Tyler, but now that she had met the Bristols and the Rocklins of Virginia, she felt a sharp twinge of guilt at the thought of her task. Heavily she said, “I wish it were over, Tyler. I—I can’t help thinking of how fine the Bristols are, and the Rocklins, too.” She saw him prepare to argue, but she was familiar with all the arguments, so she spoke up quickly. “Oh, I’ll do it, if it can be done.”
Tyler was relieved and began speaking rapidly. “Here’s what’s happening. McClellan got slowed up at Yorktown, Virginia. Joe Johnston fooled him pretty bad—made him think he had about five times as many troops as he really had. But now McClellan is headed for Richmond.” He frowned, shaking his head. “The trouble is, Stonewall Jackson is somewhere in the Shenandoah Valley. There are three Federal armies there under Shields, Banks, and Fremont, so they should be able to handle him, but McClellan is counting on the three Federal armies to help take Richmond.”
“Why, one army couldn’t beat three, could it, Tyler?”
“Well, they shouldn’t, but Jackson is a fox! Anyway, McClellan is headed up the peninsula for Richmond. Now, the Rebels know he’s coming, and they’ll throw every man they have into the battle to stop him. What we have to do is pinpoint where Joe Johnston puts his forces. If McClellan knows that, he’ll win. Now, I know Pinkerton’s got some agents there, but none of them will be as free to move around as you.”
Frankie remembered the reports that Paul had given her of his sessions with the president and some of his advisers. “I’m not so sure that we’ll be going to the battle, Tyler. The president didn’t like some of the pictures we made—of the dead and wounded. And the advisers were dead set against letting Paul go back.”
“But—if you can’t move around, our whole operation is busted.”
Secretly Frankie hoped Paul would be taken off the job, but felt there was little real chance of that. For all the advisers’ complaints and objections, President Davis still seemed in favor of the photographs. “Well, I’ll do what I can. But you can bet on one thing: McClellan may not know where the Rebels are, but they’ll sure know where he is!”
“Sure! Every farmer and hunter in the country will be feeding the Union position to General Johnston. That’s why we need to get McClellan the information he needs. Without it, he’ll be fighting blind.”
“Tyler, how will I get the information to you? I can’t get away to come here.”
“No, you can’t. That’s why I’m coming to Richmond.”
“You can’t do that!” Frankie blinked with surprise, then shook her head. “They’ll be watching strangers like a hawk, Tyler; you know that.”
“I won’t have anything in writing.” Tyler’s eyes were bright, as if he welcomed the danger—as indeed he did! He felt that he had failed by not being in the active service, and throwing himself into a dangerous mission helped him to feel better. It was foolish, but it was the way he felt.
Now he laughed at the expression on Frankie’s face. “Think of it this way: If a fellow’s born to be hanged, he’ll never get drowned, will he?”
Frankie shook her head, a dread rising in her. “It’s too dangerous. Nobody will be watching me, but you can bet that the minute you start moving around, you’ll get stopped. Last week they caught a spy in Richmond. They searched him and didn’t find a thing, until one of the officers made him take off his shoes. He had secret papers for the Union there. They…they hung him from a lamppost!” She shivered and pleaded with him. “We’ll have to think of a better way.”
But argue as she would, Tyler would not budge. Finally he said, “Look, this isn’t as dangerous as charging the Rebs with a bayonet. We won’t put anything in writing unless we have to, and we’ll do it in the order forms, like we discussed with Pinkerton.”
Frankie sat there, unhappy and afraid. “I’m thinking of your mother and your father,” she said quietly. “If something happened to you—”
“Sure, I know, Frankie, but I’ve got to do it.” He leaned over and took her hand, and when she lifted her head, he smiled. “I like it when you worry about me.”
Frankie bit her lip, then said quietly, “I do worry about you.”
Her hand was warm in his, and he held it tighter. “I feel very strongly about you, Frankie. I guess I owe my life to you and Sol Levy. Makes me feel that somehow we were meant to be a part of each other’s lives.” He stood up, and when she rose, he kept his grip. “Now don’t jump out of your skin,” he said in a cautious, serious tone, “but I’m going to give you a very mild, innocent little kiss.”
Frankie smiled, amused at his careful manner. “Well, stop talking and do it, then.”
Tyler stared at her, speechless, then leaned forward and kissed her lightly. Shaking his head, he marveled, “What happened to the girl who almost took my head off last time I tried that?”
Frankie moved away from him to look out the window. The yellow lanterns that dotted the night glowed like fireflies, and she watched as a young man and woman walked along the plank walk, holding hands.
She turned back to face Tyler, a brightness in her eyes and a look of expectancy on her lips as she said, “I didn’t tell you all that happened at Shiloh. Sit down, and let me tell you the best thing of all!”
Tyler sat down, and for the next fifteen minutes Frankie told him of her new discovery—how she’d found a new peace and freedom and joy. She spoke simply, with no trace of the slight pride that new converts sometimes manifest. When she spoke of Jesus, he noticed it was with the same sort of happiness and contentment she might have used in talking about any dear friend.
She smiled at him now. “Ever since that moment, I’ve been…oh, I don’t know how to say it.” She looked down at her hands, thinking how best to explain. Finally she shook her head. “It can’t be said in words, I guess. But all my life I’ve felt alone and cut off, somehow. Now I feel like I’m—complete.”
Tyler considered her, his broad face filled with something like envy. He’d seen this in his parents and in the Steeles enough to know that it was real. “But…what does becoming a Christian have to do with kissing?”
Frankie flushed. “I…think all my life, Tyler, I’ve been trying to be something I wasn’t. I told you how my father wanted boys and never had them, except for one son who wasn’t what he wanted? Well, I guess I tried to be the boy he really wanted. And I guess I became afraid to let anyone in, to trust anyone to see who I really am. Especially any man.” Her face clouded for a moment. “Seemed like anytime I tried to care about a man, or to let them know how I was feeling, deep inside…I just got hurt. But now”—she looked at him, and the light in her eyes was wonderful—“since I met the Lord, I don’t feel the same.” She thought about it, then said, “Marianne helped me a lot with it. She says—”
When she broke off, Tyler demanded, “What did she say?”
“Oh, it was nothing.” Frankie flushed and then smiled shyly. “She just said that the first time she saw me, she knew there was a—a beautiful woman inside, trying to get out.”
“Well, she was right!” Tyler said and reached for her, his eyes bright.
Frankie put her hands out, laughing. “None of that now, Tyler Rocklin! I still need time to get used to this change in me, and you’re just going to have to behave yourself until I do.” She picked up his cane, handed it to him, then pushed him toward the door. “Now where will I contact you in Richmond?”
He allowed her to hustle him out,
turning to give her a grin. “Look for me at a little hotel named the Arlington. One of the agents said nobody would be paying much attention to it. Pretty bad place, I guess, but you can send for me there. I’ll still be James Miller.”
“I’ll get word to you as soon as I have something, Tyler. Now you go on—”
He paused and took her hand for a moment, then lifted it to his lips. He pressed a gentle kiss against it, then closed her fingers around the warm spot he’d left in her palm. His eyes twinkled at her as he said, “There! You can just keep that safe until you let me give you a real one.” His smile grew serious then, and he added, “And you can keep yourself safe, too.” With that, he was on his way.
She stood for a moment, a thoughtful look on her face, then sighed. She realized that she had allowed Tyler to think that she was more interested in him than was the case. He’s such a fine man, she thought. But there won’t ever be anything between us but friendship. I’ll have to be careful…no more kisses. And somehow I’ll have to make sure he knows what my real feelings are. It would be terrible to hurt him!
Frankie closed the door slowly, then walked to the mirror and stared at her face. She pulled off her vest, turned sideways, and fluffed out her curly hair. Then she suddenly laughed at herself, saying aloud, “You’re just a farm girl, at best, Frankie Aimes! Put on all the dresses you like; you’re still rough cut and more tomboy than girl.” She suddenly thought of Luci DeSpain’s delicate beauty, then looked at the reflection of her own rough hands and strong limbs—and for no reason that she could discern, a heaviness came over her. “You may be a woman,” she said, meeting the eyes of her reflection, “but you’ll never be a beauty.” She turned from the mirror in disgust.
Later, after she had put on her nightshirt and was in bed, reading, she happened on a scripture that seemed to leap out at her, as many of them had been doing lately. She read it aloud slowly: “‘Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves’ eyes.’”
The words were from a book in the Bible she’d never read before: Song of Solomon. What a strange thing to say in the Bible! she thought as she read the next few verses.
Behold, thou art fair, my beloved, yea, pleasant: also our bed is green…I am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valleys.
“Oh, that’s nice!” she whispered, and then she read the next line and could not believe what she was reading:
As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters.
Frankie blinked, and her hands trembled so that she could not see the print. “As the lily among thorns…,” she thought. Not one of the thorns, like I’ve always thought I was, but a lily among thorns! She had no idea what the theological meaning was, but the words charmed her: As the lily among thorns…the rose of Sharon…thou art fair.
For a long time she read, confused but entranced by the rich imagery of the language. It was like nothing she’d ever read, and the sensuous quality of some of the lines brought a flush to her cheeks.
Why, it’s like a love letter! she thought. Many of the passages spoke of physical love, while others seemed to be more about spiritual love. She read avidly, and remembering how Marianne had instructed her to ask God to help her understand His Word, she did just that.
Finally her eyes grew tired, and she read one final passage from chapter 5. It seemed to be a question asked by a group of young women.
What is thy beloved more than another beloved, O thou fairest among women? what is thy beloved more than another beloved, that thou dost so charge us?
Frankie thought about the question, wondering who the beloved of the young woman was. Then she read the young woman’s answer to the question.
My beloved is white and ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand.
His head is as the most fine gold, his locks are bushy, and black as a raven.
His eyes are as the eyes of doves by the rivers of waters, washed with milk, and fitly set.
His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers: his lips like lilies, dropping sweet smelling myrrh.
His hands are as gold rings set with the beryl: his belly is as bright ivory overlaid with sapphires.
His legs are as pillars of marble, set upon sockets of fine gold: his countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars.
Frankie was caught up in the description. Though she wasn’t at all certain of the meaning, she was filled with wonder at the magnificence of the language. Suddenly the image of a strong face flitted through her mind. Quickly she shut her eyes and tried to force it away…but it remained there, blue eyes glowing warmly. She started to close the Bible, but before she did, her eyes fell on the last verse: “His mouth is most sweet: yea, he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem!”
Abruptly she shut the Bible and blew out the lamp. But even as she lay in the bed with her eyes shut tight, the face she’d seen lingered…and she seemed to hear a voice she knew well, saying softly, “Behold, you are fair, my love.”
CHAPTER 21
NO MERCY
As McClellan probed forward with his army of more than one hundred thousand men, every Southern eye was turned toward the blue-clad host. Clay Rocklin and his two sons, Lowell and Dent, returned to their unit, the Richmond Grays. There they were placed in the first of the three lines of troops that ringed Richmond. General Joseph Johnston and President Davis for once agreed on tactics, and they bled the other areas dry, shifting every available man to the Richmond theater.
The entire country was rampant with rumors, and at Gracefield, the Rocklins were more on edge than most. The men had left with their regiment; and Paul and Frankie were gone, as well, having been given new assignments by President Davis—assignments that sent them ever closer to the front lines. As though that wasn’t enough to worry about, another problem had grown so severe that neither Thomas nor Susanna knew what to do.
Ever since Ellen had been sentenced to a wheelchair, she had grown more and more acrimonious and difficult. She demanded attention, flying into fits of weeping when she didn’t get her way or fits of rage when she was crossed. During Clay’s leave, she had done all she could to make life terrible for him. After he returned to the front, she poured out her bitterness on anyone who had the misfortune to come near her.
The slaves dreaded her, for she cursed them and even struck them when they came within reach. But they had the advantage of living in their cabins in the slave quarters rather than in the Big House. In that place, there was no escape from the woman’s mindless rages.
David, Denton’s twin brother, was far more easygoing than his twin and could put up with Ellen’s impossible demands with a patience that astonished Thomas, David’s grandfather. One day, when Ellen had cursed David and struck at him wildly, he merely said, “Mother, I’ll take you for a ride after a while.”
Later, when David had come to sit with his grandfather in the grape arbor, Thomas said, “David, Dent would have gone crazy if he’d had to put up with your mother. Yet you never seem to lose your temper with her.”
David considered the remark, then said, “Mother’s the most miserable person I know, Grandfather. She’s cooped up in a helpless body. Seems to me that would be terrible for anyone, but it’s worse for her because she has no resources, no good things to concentrate on. She doesn’t like her husband or her family, but what’s worse is she doesn’t like herself. I think that’s why she’s done the things she has. She’s always felt inferior, and I guess she always sought out the kind of company that matched that bad opinion she had of herself.”
Thomas stared at his tall grandson, something akin to awe in his eyes. “You think deeper than the rest of us, David,” he said. “Most Rocklin men shoot from the hip, usually without thinking, but you’re always looking and watching and thinking about things. And you’re right about your mother, but I’m afraid to think of what’s going to happen if she doesn’t accept her situation.”
“She probably won’t. If it w
ere Grandmother, it would be one thing, because Grandmother has God. But Mother has only herself, and she hates herself. I figure that’s why she’s always screaming at everyone. She hates what she’s been, and she’s helpless to do anything about it. So when she screams at me or hits me, I know it’s all really meant for herself. And if it helps her to feel better for a while, well, I can handle it.” He lowered his voice, casting a look at Rena, who was in the yard playing with Buck, her huge, formidable deerhound. “Mother is the type who could take her own life, you know.”
Thomas started, then, after a moment, nodded slowly. “Yes, I think she could. Her mind’s getting worse, isn’t it?”
“Every day she slips a little.” David’s face grew sad. “If she doesn’t find peace, she’ll lose her mind completely, I’m afraid.”
“She was happy for a while after you fixed the buggy for her.” The buggy had been Ellen’s one diversion. David had taken an old rig and had a carpenter work on it, fixing it so that Ellen could be placed into it. Then David had found an old horse incapable of more than a fast walk to hitch to it, and given the rig to Ellen. It took a strong man to pick her up from her chair and place her in the cut-down seat, but once there, she could take short drives alone.
“Yes, but it didn’t last long, did it? Now Mother says the rides just remind her of all she’s lost.”
As the two sat there talking quietly, Ellen was in her room. Located on the first floor, the room had been the master bedroom, used by Thomas and Susanna until Ellen’s accident. When they had given it up and moved upstairs, Ellen had not so much as said a word of thanks. She simply complained constantly about things she didn’t like about the room. Now she wheeled herself to the window and glared balefully at the two men and Rena.
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