Appomattox Saga Omnibus 2: Three Books In One (Appomatox Saga)

by Gilbert, Morris

“Oh, very well, Clyde.” Amos nodded. “The Lord is good.”

  “Stay and have supper, Clyde,” Grace said.

  But Dortch seemed troubled. “No, I thank thee. I have things to do at home.” He said his good-byes, then left the kitchen.

  “Clyde seems upset,” Amos observed. “What’s the matter with him, Prudence?”

  “Why, nothing that I know of, Father,” Prudence said. She looked pale and tired and turned at once to go to her room, saying, “I’ll come and help with supper in a bit, Grace.”

  There was silence for a few moments; then Amos sighed. “I’m a little worried about Prudence. She’s been touchy lately.” He looked over the table, which was now filled with supplies for the wedding party. “Didn’t take all this when Martha and I got married. Sometimes I think it’d be better if young couples just went back to the simpler ways.”

  “Thee is just stingy,” Grace teased him. “Thee would like to save the money thee must spend on thy daughter’s wedding.” She came to stand beside him and brushed a lock of lank white hair from his forehead. “Thee has certainly spent thy share on marrying daughters off!”

  Swenson reached up and caught her hand. He held it gently, noting how round and strong it was, then said, “I never was so happy to see any of thy sisters married as I am to see thee married, Grace.”

  He could not see her face, so he missed the expression of doubt that tightened her features. “I know,” she whispered. “It will be soon, Father. Then your ugly duckling will be safely married.” She ignored his protests at the name she gave herself and held his head tightly to her breast in a protective gesture.

  “Oh, you look beautiful, Grace!”

  Charity stood back and gazed with admiration at Grace, surprised at the way the white silk wedding dress brought a pristine beauty to her friend. The dress was simple, as befitted a Quaker bride. The bodice was decorated with embroidery around the high neckline, and the only color was the silver lace that the dressmaker had added at the neck and cuffs. The skirt fell to the floor, barely touching the fine white calf slippers, and with every motion the tall woman made, it shimmered like compressed light.

  Grace turned to stare into the mirror, and she gasped at the effect. “It—it’s the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen, Charity!”

  Charity was filled with admiration. “It must be nice to be tall,” she said with a sigh. “I’m so short and stubby that everything I put on makes me look like a keg! Thee looks like a—a queen or a princess!”

  Grace laughed, “Oh, come now, Charity—!”

  “I mean it, Grace,” Charity said fervently.

  She turned to look at herself again. “I—I hope Clyde likes it.”

  “He’d have to be blind not to love you in that dress,” Charity said emphatically. For the next few minutes, she stayed and talked with Grace, then said, “I guess the night before a girl’s wedding, there’s bound to be a few butterflies in the stomach. But after tomorrow, you’ll be fine.”

  Grace tried to smile, but after Charity left, she found her hands trembling as she removed the dress and hung it up. She put on a robe and left her room, going to the kitchen. It was late afternoon, and the sky was gray and threatening. She stood at the window, staring out at the grass and trees, which would gladly soak up the impending rain, and wished that it were all over.

  A noise behind her caused Grace to turn, and she found Prudence standing in the doorway. “The dress fits fine,” Grace said. “I thought you might come and help me try it on.”

  “I…meant to,” Prudence said with a slight hesitation. “But I wasn’t feeling too well.”

  “Oh? What’s wrong, Prudence? Not flu coming on, I hope?”

  “No, just a headache.”

  “Well, thee go lie down and I’ll fix supper.”

  “No, I’m all right now,” Prudence said. She looked tired, and Grace thought that the preparations for the wedding might have been too much for her. But Prudence insisted, “Go sit with Father while I fix supper.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to.”

  Grace found her father in the parlor reading his Bible. She sat with him until suppertime, listening as he read slowly but with enjoyment. Finally they went in to eat, and his appetite seemed somewhat better. “I’m looking forward to the wedding,” he said after the meal. “Everybody in the community will be there to wish thee well.”

  Grace dreaded being the object of so much attention but said nothing. It was Prudence who broke the silence. “I think I’ll go to bed early.”

  Grace went to her, put her arm around her, and said, “I’ve let thee do too much. After the wedding, I want thee to rest up. We can take a trip to Riverton. It’ll be good for us to spend more time together.”

  “That would be…nice.” Prudence held her head down, but when she looked up, both Grace and her father saw that there were tears in her eyes. She started to speak but seemed to change her mind and left abruptly.

  “That’s strange,” Amos murmured.

  “She’s worn herself out,” Grace said. “She needs to be around young people more.”

  After Grace washed the dishes, she saw that her father was very tired. “I think we all need to go to bed early,” she said. When he agreed, she gave him his medicine and, when he was in bed, kissed him, saying, “Good night. Tomorrow thee will have a new son-in-law.”

  “And thee will be a wife.”

  Grace left him and went to bed at once. She was tired, but it took some time for her to go to sleep. Finally she drifted off into a fitful slumber, awakening several times during the night. She dreamed short, unhappy dreams, and when morning finally arrived, she got up more drawn and weary than she’d been when she had gone to bed.

  Pulling on her robe, she moved out of her room and down the hall toward the kitchen. She went at once to the stove and built a fire, then moved to the cabinet to get coffee.

  As she reached for the heavy white coffee jar, she noticed an envelope leaning against it. She blinked with surprise when she saw her name on the front of the envelope, in Prudence’s handwriting. Puzzled, she opened the envelope and took out the single page inside. She began to read—and at once her face lost all color. The room seemed to tilt under her feet, and her stomach knotted up.

  Grace,

  I know thee will hate me, but I can’t help myself. I love Clyde, and he loves me. We are going away to be married. We have been so unhappy and could not find a way to tell thee. Take care of Father and try not to hate me too much.

  Prudence

  Grace closed her eyes and for a moment swayed slightly as the words seemed to burn into her soul. She had never fainted before but felt she must be perilously close to doing so at that moment. She became nauseated, and unconsciously crumpling the note into a ball, she walked across the room and opened the door, then stepped outside.

  The fresh, cool morning air did nothing to wash away the sickness that seemed to choke her. Her legs began to tremble, and she reached out and grasped one of the posts that held up the roof. Clinging to it until her hands ached with strain, she pressed her brow against the rounded surface and began to weep. Her body shook with great sobs, and she could not muffle the sound that disturbed the quietness of the morning.

  Rip, the old sheepdog, came up to the porch and stared at the sobbing woman uneasily. He climbed the steps and timidly put his nose against Grace’s hip. Startled, Grace stopped weeping and looked down. “Oh, Rip!” she cried and sank beside the dog, hugging him and holding back the tears. Rip wiggled, trying to lick her face, then put his huge paw on Grace’s leg and whined sadly.

  Finally Grace arose, patted the dog, then turned and walked back into the kitchen. She washed her face at the sink, dried her face, and then stood for one moment, thinking of what had to be done.

  The wedding would have to be canceled—and she would have to bear the brunt of the reaction…the shame of being cast off and of having a sister who had proved to be totally untrue. She knew that from this time forwar
d, men and women would stare after her and whisper things as she passed.

  Suddenly a great bitterness began to grow within her—and at once she knew her danger. Falling on her knees, she prayed, “Oh God, forgive me for my thoughts! Let me not be a bitter woman! I pray for my sister…and—and for Clyde, too! Bless them and let me never harbor hatred for them. I forgive them…as You forgave me when I was but a sinner.…”

  For some time she knelt there praying, opening her heart to God in sorrow and repentance. Finally she slowly rose to her feet. Once again there were tears on her cheeks, and she carefully washed them away, then soaked her face with a cold cloth, pressing away as much as she could of the marks of strain.

  I’ll have to stay close to Father, she thought. He’ll blame himself for agreeing to the marriage. I’ll have to make him understand that it’s not his fault.

  She turned and filled the kettle, then put it on the stove and moved about the room, making preparations for breakfast, praying constantly. It’s not the end of the world, she thought. I have Father to take care of. I have work on the farm. I have my church—and I have Jesus.

  By the time she’d poured the scalding water into the coffeepot, then drank two cups, she was ready. She poured hot coffee into her father’s mug, added milk and sugar the way he liked it, then turned toward his room. She knew he would be awake, for she always brought him his coffee at this early hour. As she carried the cup, she took some pride in the fact that her hands were steady and her face was calm.

  As she came to his door and reached for the knob, she prayed one quick prayer that the news would not upset him too much. Pain shot through her again, and she leaned her head against the door, praying for strength. When at last she lifted her head, there was resolve in her eyes.

  I’ll never be a wife. This is the time that I say good-bye to love. From now on, I’ll have God’s love—and that will be far sweeter than any man’s love!

  Then she turned the knob and entered the room. When her father greeted her, she said, “Father, take your coffee. We have to have a talk.”

  CHAPTER 4

  “I WON’T HAVE A HUSBAND”

  I’m afraid he’s going, Sister Grace.” Dr. Wells’s round face was filled with compassion, for he knew how attached Grace Swenson was to her father. He’d watched her carefully some time earlier, when she’d gone through an experience that would have devastated most young women, and had been impressed with how well she’d borne the deception of her sister and Clyde Dortch.

  The doctor was not himself a man of faith—he leaned more in the direction of agnosticism—but he’d told his wife, “That oldest Swenson girl, she’s got grit enough for ten men! Most girls would have been ruined by what happened to her, but Grace has kept her head up high. If I ever became any kind of a Christian, I guess I’d like to look into the Quaker brand!”

  Grace was aware of Dr. Wells’s scrutiny. She had grown to respect him during the last few months, for he had been kind and honest. Now she looked at him and nodded. “Is it time to call in the family, Doctor?”

  “I think that would be best.” He hesitated, then added, “I wish there was more that I could do, Miss Swenson. I really do.”

  “Thee has been so good to my father…and to me, Dr. Wells,” Grace said, smiling at him warmly. “No doctor in the world could have been more attentive. But it’s time for my father to go meet his God, and we must all accept that.”

  Wells dropped his head, stared at the floor for a long moment, then lifted his gaze to meet her honest blue eyes. “I admire your faith. Your father, he’s the kind of Christian I didn’t think existed. The way he’s faced this illness—and is facing death—makes me think I’ve been a little hasty in forming my beliefs.” Then, as if he was afraid he’d revealed too much, the stubby physician cleared his throat and said in a businesslike tone, “I’ll stay close by for the next few days. Call me anytime.”

  “God bless thee, Dr. Wells.” Grace showed him to the door, then moved back to the bedroom. Her father’s eyes opened as she sat down beside him, and she asked, “Can I get thee something, Father?”

  “Yes…call the girls.”

  Grace whispered, “All right. I’ll send for them right away.” She left the room and found the two hands splitting wood. “Father’s sinking,” she said at once. “We have to get the girls here.”

  “Aw, that’s too bad, Miss Grace!” Jed Satterfield shook his head. He was very fond of Amos Swenson, and sadness came to his face. “You want me to go fetch them?”

  “Thee go tell Martha and Dove. Benny, thee please take word to Sarah and…Prudence.”

  Benny and Jed exchanged a quick glance. Prudence had not been to see her father since she had left with Clyde Dortch. Word had come that they had returned and were staying at the Dortch farm. “All right, Miss Grace.” Benny nodded agreement for both men. “We’ll be right fast about it.”

  “It’s good to have you both,” Grace said. “I don’t see how we could have gotten by without the two of you.” She turned and walked quickly into the house, and the two men went to saddle up for their errands.

  “If it was me,” Benny said as he clapped a bridle into the mouth of a gray stallion, “I’d not have the woman on the place, sister or no!”

  “Well, it ain’t you, so jist do whut Miss Grace tells you to!” Jed Satterfield’s disagreement with the shorter man was more out of habit than anything else, for truly he felt exactly the same way as Benny. He slapped a saddle on a roan mare and, as he drew the cinches tight, muttered under his breath, “Don’t see how them two could have the unmitigated gall to come back after whut they done to Miss Grace!”

  “What you mumbling about?” Benny demanded as he swung into the saddle.

  “Nothing! Now git on your way and don’t take all day about it!”

  “Wasn’t plannin’ on no pleasure ride, thank you!” Benny George drove his heels into the sides of the stallion and shot out of the barn. He rode hard until he came to the farm belonging to Nick Sanderson, Sarah’s husband. Sarah met Benny at the door, and he pulled his hat off to say haltingly, “Miss Sarah—Miss Grace sent me to tell you you’d better come quick.”

  “How is he, Benny?”

  “Well, Miss Grace said for you to hurry up, please.”

  “We’ll go at once.”

  Benny nodded, went back to his horse, and rode off toward the Dortch farm. When he came into the front yard and dismounted, Mrs. Dortch, Clyde’s mother, came out of the house. “Got to see Miss Prudence, Miz Dortch,” Benny said briefly.

  The woman stared at him, then nodded. “I’ll fetch her.” She stepped into the house and went upstairs, where she found Prudence sitting listlessly beside her bed. “One of your father’s hired hands just come in. Wants to see thee.”

  Prudence looked up quickly, fear in her eyes. “It must be my father!” She leaped up and ran down the stairs. Rushing outside, she looked up at Benny.

  “Is it Father?” she whispered.

  “Yes, ma’am, it is.” Benny nodded without expression.

  Prudence’s face flushed under his accusing stare. “Did—who asked you to come for me?”

  “Miss Grace.” Having delivered his message, Benny turned to pull himself back into the saddle. He added curtly, “She allowed you’d better hurry.” He kicked the stallion’s flanks and the horse shot out, sending mud flying from his hooves.

  Prudence stood watching him go, then turned and slowly made her way back into the house. Mrs. Dortch came to ask, “Thy father is going?”

  “Yes,” Prudence whispered; then she hugged herself and said, “I’ll go tell Clyde.”

  “He’s working with Daniel over to the south meadow, burning stumps.” Mrs. Dortch was a thin woman, worn down with the constant care of her invalid husband. She had not been unkind to Prudence when Clyde had showed up with her, tired and hungry, but there had been little she could do to shield the couple from her older son’s hard ways. Daniel had allowed them to stay but insisted that they bo
th work hard for their keep. As Prudence walked out of the house, Mrs. Dortch asked, “Do you think Clyde will go to thy place with thee?”

  Prudence could only say, “It’s my father—we’ve got to go.”

  She walked the mile and a quarter to the south meadow, and as she drew near, both men stopped work. “It’s my father, Clyde,” she said. “He’s dying.”

  Clyde was thinner than he had been, for Daniel had driven him hard. He was wearing a pair of worn overalls, and his hands were blistered. He stared at Prudence with lackluster eyes, asking, “Did he send for us?”

  “Yes. And we’d better hurry.”

  Clyde bit his lip nervously. His marriage had been a hard thing, for when their money had run out, there was no place to go but back to the home place. He’d worked harder than ever, with no pay and little prospect of any. He’d grown to hate his brother, Daniel, but had no options other than to continue on as he was. And if there was one thing Clyde Dortch hated, it was feeling helpless.

  “Wouldn’t think thee would want to go back and face them,” Daniel grunted to his brother. “Best let her go and thee stay here.”

  Clyde glared at him, then threw down his ax. “We’ll be back when we see how things are,” he announced defiantly. He well knew that Daniel would begrudge him every moment he was away. The anger that rose in him gave him the impetus he needed to go back and face Grace and her father.

  Daniel Dortch glared at the pair. “Better be careful. It’s only my generosity puts food in your stomachs and a roof over your heads!”

  “Come on, Prue,” Clyde said shortly. He ignored his brother, and when they were out of earshot, he said, “I—don’t feel good about going back to your place.”

  Prudence shook her head. “I know. But we’ve got to do it.”

  When they reached the barn, Clyde hitched up the team while Prudence went inside to gather up some clothes. She came out as he drove up, and he held the horses steady while she tossed the bag inside and climbed up to sit beside him.