Clay grasped the hand, then could not restrain himself. He put his arms around Lowell and held him fiercely. Then he released him, turned, and pulled out a handkerchief. Blowing his nose, he waited for a moment, and when he turned around, he said evenly, “Well, let’s eat!”
It broke the tension, and all during the meal, Lowell spoke of how it had come about, always giving the credit to Josh and Rooney. He had a different spirit, and Clay did not miss the expression in Rooney’s eyes. She never took her eyes from Lowell for more than a few moments, and when she saw Clay observing this, she flushed and dropped her eyes.
Finally the meal was over, and Lowell said, “Father, I want some of your time.”
“Of course.”
Clay rose and followed the young man outside. Lowell led him out the side door, for it was only one step—much easier to navigate than the front porch. Clay walked along, adjusting his pace to Lowell’s, and found himself at the pasture where the horses were kept. Lowell leaned against the fence, put his fingers in his mouth, and whistled shrilly.
“I could never do that,” Clay stated. Then he saw Midnight, Lowell’s favorite mount, appear from around the barn. The beautiful horse came up to the two men, and Lowell gave him a bit of biscuit he pulled from his pocket. “Beautiful animal! Never saw a finer one.”
Lowell patted the smooth muzzle, then turned to face his father. His face was as earnest as Clay had ever seen it, and he began to tell Clay how he’d struggled to learn to walk. Once again, he gave Josh and Rooney all the credit. “I must have fallen a thousand times, but they always picked me up,” he said quietly.
“We’ll always owe them for that. They’re quality.” He was aware that Lowell was framing something, trying to find a way to ask him something. “What is it, son?” he asked. “I’ll do anything I can for you—you must know that.”
“All right, I’ll tell you.” Lowell put his hazel eyes directly on Clay and took a deep breath. “I want to stay in the army.” He saw the surprise on Clay’s face and quickly went on: “I know it’ll be hard, but I can do it, sir.”
Clay was troubled and showed it. His brow furrowed, and he said, “Why, Lowell, you know what the army’s like. It’d be too hard for you. You’ll learn to walk much better, but I don’t think you’d be able to keep up over some of the terrain we’ll be marching through.”
“I know, but I want to be a courier.” Lowell saw the idea make a change in his father’s face. “I can’t march, but I’ll be able to ride as well as any man.”
Clay nodded slowly, then said, “Well, now that’s so, I guess.” He stood there letting the idea sink in and finally said, “Nobody will look down on you if you don’t go, son. You’ve done your share.”
Lowell shook his head stubbornly. “I’ve got to do it, sir!”
“And you want me to find you a place?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Well, I’ll do it.” A thought came to him, and he exclaimed, “Why, General Stuart—he’d be glad to have you, Lowell!”
“I never thought of that!”
“He was very impressed with you,” Clay replied. “I’ll be glad to speak to the colonel about you transferring and not being mustered out.”
“Do you really think he’ll have me?”
Clay looked on Lowell’s eager face, and pride swelled in him. He gripped Lowell’s arm tightly, then said, “Son, any general would be glad to have you on his staff!” Then he laughed and shook his head. “Well, I’m a little prejudiced, I guess.” He looked at the black horse and then at Lowell. “When do you want to go, son?”
Lowell thought, then said, “Josh and Rooney will help me. And it won’t be as hard as learning to walk.” He did some fast figuring, then said, “I’ll be ready in two weeks, sir.”
“Two weeks,” Clay said thoughtfully. He did some addition of his own, then smiled briefly. “That’ll be plenty of time, I think.”
“Where will the next battle be?” Lowell asked.
“I think it’ll be in the North. We’ve got to hit the Yankees on their own ground.”
“I’ll hope to be with you, sir!”
Clay suddenly asked, “What about Rooney?” He smiled at the startled expression on Lowell’s face. “You can’t take her with you, as you did last time.”
“I—I guess not,” Lowell stammered. Then his face brightened. “But she’ll be here when I get back.”
Clay didn’t respond, but even as he turned the conversation toward the probable tactics of General Hooker, he was thinking, He’s in love with that girl—and I don’t blame him!
CHAPTER 21
RENA LOSES A FRIEND
Easy, Midnight!”
Lowell held the reins firmly as the black horse snorted and tossed his head. He had always been a difficult animal to mount, requiring strength and great agility, though he was quickly obedient once a rider was on his back. He was not in the least a vicious horse, but for some reason he refused to stand quietly as a rider stepped into the stirrup.
Lowell had saddled Midnight in the barn, then led him outside into the brilliant sunlight, stopping in the center of the small corral built of split rails. Although he did not take his eyes off the prancing stallion, he was aware that he had an audience. Behind him Highboy and two other hands were standing at the door to the barn, and to his left he knew that Rooney, Buck, Josh, and Rena were standing outside the tall fence.
They had all seen him ride Midnight. For two weeks he’d left early in the morning every day for a ride, but he’d always been helped into the saddle by Josh or one of the hands. What they didn’t know was that Lowell had gone several times to practice getting into the saddle with only Highboy present.
And those sessions had been disasters! Even now as Lowell held the horse fast, he thought of the many falls he’d taken, and he heard Highboy whisper, “Oh, Marse Lowell…be keerful!” The tall slave had begged the young man not to attempt mounting on his own, saying, “I’ll go to the army wif you, Marse Lowell! Lots of soldiers takes dey body servants, and I can hep you git on dat hoss every time!”
After Lowell had been tossed to the ground several times, he’d been sorely tempted to accept Highboy’s offer. But he’d shaken his head grimly, saying, “No thanks, Highboy. I’ll get on my own horse or I won’t go!”
Finally he’d managed to pull the trick off once—and was elated. It wasn’t the end of the thing, of course, for Midnight had no intention of reforming! However, he’d stayed at it until he could manage getting astride the horse at least nine times out of ten, so he’d announced at breakfast that everyone was invited to watch.
Now as he hauled in on the reins, he was aware that if he got thrown, he’d look like a fool and a failure, but he was ready to risk it. There were rumors about the army moving into the North soon, and Lowell was determined to be a part of it.
“Easy, boy,” he said gently but firmly. As he pulled the horse’s head down, he moved to the side, his movement somewhat jerky. Keeping Midnight’s head down, he leaned under the glossy neck, tossed the reins over, and caught them, then held them tightly. Midnight tried to toss his head and prance away, but Lowell jerked him into place almost roughly.
The trick was to mount quickly, he had discovered. One false move and Midnight would be sidling off to one side or giving that little half-buck that made it impossible for him to throw his artificial leg over the saddle. Good thing it was the right leg instead of the left, he thought. I’d never be able to balance in the stirrup on the cork one.
Giving the reins a steady pull, he stepped to the side and balanced on his artificial leg—and this was the critical moment! He had learned that if he could hold that balance, lift his left leg, and jam it into the stirrup, it was possible to lift himself with one surge of power and throw the other leg over the saddle even if Midnight tried one of his tricks. But if he missed the stirrup with his left foot, he was helpless and usually was dragged to the ground in an ignominious fall.
Now he jerked down on the re
ins to hold the horse steady for one moment, lifted his left foot, and stabbed at the stirrup—and was elated when his boot entered! He’d had Josh enlarge the stirrup so that it was easier to insert the toe of his boot, and now as it hit home, he instantly grabbed the saddle horn with his right hand, gave a sharp heave, and threw his right leg up and over the broad back of Midnight. Just as he did, Midnight gave a forward lurch, but the momentum of his effort carried him into the saddle, and he knew he was safe! He heard Highboy yelp shrilly and identified Rooney’s voice as she cried out, “That’s the way, Lowell!”
As he pulled Midnight up sharply, he glanced down to his right and lifted his body, shoving the toe of his boot into the stirrup, which had been specially designed by Josh so that it hung low enough to allow his leg to lock. Josh had also taken the forward sway out of that stirrup by means of carefully designed strips of white oak. This device prevented the stirrup from swaying forward when his boot hit and also held the leg firmly in place.
Flushed with his success, Lowell turned Midnight’s head toward his small audience and swept off his hat. “Guess I’ll be able to get a job with a circus!”
They all laughed, and he wheeled the horse around and called for Josh to open the gate. Then he gave a shrill cry and sent the sleek animal out at full speed. Leaning forward, he exulted in the speed of the animal, and a joy he thought he’d never know again came to him. I’m as good as any man when I get in the saddle! He drove the horse at a breakneck speed, then turned him sharply and was pleased that he’d mastered that trick. There was some loss of response, perhaps, but so little that he knew he could still do the job.
He put the horse through every difficulty he could devise, then slapped him on the neck fondly. “If I do as well as you, boy, I’ll get a medal!”
When he returned to step down from the tired horse, he saw that Rooney was waiting. “Take good care of him, Highboy,” he said fondly. “We’ve got a long way to go, him and me!”
Rooney came to meet him as he moved through the gate. She took his arm, and Lowell knew that it was partly to help him, for she had learned to serve as a brace for him since he’d almost given up his cane. He still used it, but now he put his arm around her waist and smiled. “Maybe I could take you along when I go back. You could cook for me and wash my clothes, just like in our ballooning days.”
Rooney gave him a swift glance, longing in her face. “Oh, Lowell, I wish I could!”
She had such a woebegone expression that Lowell almost laughed. “Well, I doubt if the general would favor that.”
“I don’t see why not.” They were walking along the open space that separated the barns and outbuildings from the main house, and Lowell gazed at the place, realizing how fond he was of Gracefield. He knew that he might never see it again, for no one was safe in battle. He’d grown up here and knew nearly every stone and blade of grass, and it gave him a wrench to think this might be his last glimpse of it.
“When will you be going?”
Startled, he looked down at her. “Why, day after tomorrow, I guess.”
They had come to the scuppernong arbor, and the white lath work was covered with vines, most of them returning to the green of summer. Rooney stopped abruptly and turned to him, and he saw that she was very serious. Her blue eyes contained some sort of sadness that was rare, for she was a happy girl as a rule. Something was in her mind, he saw, for her lips were pursed as they were when she was making a decision, and there was a hesitancy in her manner.
“What is it, Rooney?”
“Oh, I don’t know.…” She was not tall and had to tilt her head upward to look into his face. Lowell admired the freshness of her skin, the clearness of her eyes, and her long, thick lashes. “I wish you weren’t going!” she said abruptly. Then she took the lapels of his suit coat and suddenly leaned against him.
Lowell was taken by surprise, for he had not seen this side of Rooney for a long time. She had been the strong one, always giving him confidence and never showing fear. He put his arms around her, thoroughly aware of the intense femininity that he held in his arms. Finally, without drawing back, she lifted her face and said simply, “I love you, Lowell!”
And then Rooney Smith did something that she would not have dreamed of doing only a few months before: She released her grip on his coat, reached up, and pulled his head down, kissing him firmly on the mouth.
For Lowell, there was a wild sweetness in her gesture, and the softness of her lips stirred him, so that he gripped her and pulled her closer. He half expected her to draw back, but instead she pressed herself against him with an impassioned gesture as if she were afraid she would lose him. He could smell the sweetness of the scent she wore, and her hair brushed against his cheeks, stirred by the wind.
There was no reserve in Rooney, and it was as if all the fears she’d had about men had never been. As Lowell held her, it was a natural thing, and she had no other thought but I love this man!
Finally she drew back and shyly dropped her eyes—and then raised them. She waited for him to speak, and though she had almost no experience with real love, she knew that Lowell felt some of what was in her so powerfully. Finally he whispered, “And I love you, Rooney!”
She laughed then, and when he kissed her again, it was as if she’d come home to safety after a long and difficult voyage. She pulled back, drew him to the bench, and, when they were seated, began to speak of how she’d fallen in love with him. He listened, charmed by her honesty and openness as much as by her fresh, youthful beauty. Finally she stopped and reached out to stroke his cheek. She started to speak and halted, a troubled look in her eyes.
“What is it, Rooney?”
“I–I’m not the kind of girl men like you…care for,” she said quietly.
He read her thoughts and caught her hand. Holding it firmly, he said, “Yes, you are! You’re honest and brave and beautiful. What else is there for a man?”
Rooney said with difficulty, “My family!” She could not say more and turned her face away. “When my mother gets out of…jail, I’ll have to help her. You—you wouldn’t want a woman like that in your—” She almost said, “in your family,” but realized that Lowell had said nothing about marriage. She thought of the long line of Rocklins, men and women of distinction, and fell silent.
“Rooney, I can’t say much right now,” Lowell said quietly, then paused, thinking, How much has changed in just a few weeks! When I had two legs, I’d never have thought of marrying a girl in her social class. Now it’s what I want more than anything in the world! He had not himself realized this fully, and the suddenness of it shocked him. He’d been firmly fixed in his own little world, but the blast of a cannon had completely destroyed his dreams and ideals. Now, looking at Rooney, he understood that he’d let go of them along with the bitterness that had filled his spirit. I want her more than I ever wanted all those things I set such store by! Why, I can’t even think of the future without her in it!
Carefully he said, “Rooney, it’s you I love. I’ve got only one leg, and you’ve got a mother with terrible problems. We have to take each other with the difficult things as well as the good things.” He stroked her hair, for he loved the wild soft curls that crowned her head, and he began to tell her how much she’d come to mean to him. He’d never done this, but the words came easily, without effort. She kept her eyes fixed on him, her lips half parted, and there was such trust and joy in her expression that finally Lowell said, “You’re the one woman in the world for me, Rooney!”
“Oh, Lowell!”
“But I’ve got to go,” Lowell added. “It’s something I have to do. When I get back…well, we’ll have lots of plans to make.”
“Yes, Lowell.” Fear came to Rooney, as it did, perhaps, to all women who sent their men off to face the cannons, but she kept a smile on her lips. “I’ll be waiting for you.”
He got to his feet and, when she rose, embraced her briefly, then said, “That makes all the difference, sweetheart!”
; If the pair had known they were under careful observation, they might have behaved differently, but neither of them realized that a pair of sharp eyes was watching them from the door of the hayloft.
Rena had persuaded Josh to take her rabbit hunting, and she’d joined him in the loft, helping to throw down hay for the farm animals. Josh had been pleased that Rena was going, but he turned to see her staring out the window instead of helping throw down forkfuls of the fragrant hay. Curiously he stepped behind her and peered over her shoulder. One glance and he pulled her around, “You ain’t g–got no business watching such!”
“Lowell is kissing Rooney!”
“W–well, is it any of your b–business?”
Rena saw that Josh was angry, but she wanted to see more. She tried to pull away, but he held her arm so tightly that she couldn’t move. “Let me go!” she cried angrily.
“No! It’s not right spying.”
Rena flushed with anger—and guilt. She’d known it wasn’t right to watch the pair, and now that Josh had caught her at it—and refused to join her—it made her very angry. Without thought, she swung her arm and slapped him on the face, the blow making an ugly sound.
Josh stared at the girl, conscious of the stinging blow, but hurt worse by Rena’s act than anything else. He was terribly sensitive, and it had been a new world when Rena Rocklin had shown him such kindness. Now as the sound of the blow seemed to echo in his ears, his eyes grew bleak. Dropping his grip on her arm, he turned and walked away. Without a word, he leaped from the loft into the pile of hay, caught his balance, then ran out of the barn.
Rena was transfixed, unable to move. She had not meant to strike Josh! It had been her pride that had made her do it, and she leaped forward to the ladder, crying, “Josh! Josh! I didn’t mean it!”
But he was gone, and though she searched for him everywhere, she couldn’t find him. Finally she went to her room, fell across her bed, and wept until she was weak.
Appomattox Saga Omnibus 2: Three Books In One (Appomatox Saga) Page 82