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

by Gilbert, Morris

  “Yes, sir,” Malone said, grinning, knowing his man. “And I think we’d better have another race…this time for a shorter distance.”

  “Right! Can’t have a mere private beating his commanding officer!”

  “Why, Rocklin’s a sergeant, General!”

  “Not anymore,” Stuart slyly stated. “He’ll have to earn his stripes all over again. Come along, Major.”

  Lowell turned from speaking with the men who pressed in to shake his hand and stroke the sides of Midnight. He waited for the general to speak, fearful that he’d lost his chance despite winning the race.

  But Stuart smiled, and Lowell’s heart seemed to leap as the bearded general said, “Well, looks like you jined the cavalry, Private Rocklin. Now let’s see if you can keep up!”

  Lowell didn’t miss the fact that he’d been demoted, but that meant nothing to him. “Thank you, General!” he responded quickly. “I’ll do my best to do that.”

  “You’ll serve in Major Malone’s troop, and we’ll have a race tomorrow.” Stuart’s bright blue eyes twinkled as he added, “This time for just a quartet!”

  “Yes, sir!”

  As Malone walked away with Lowell to show him his quarters and acquaint him with his sergeant, he said, “Private, I don’t think I’d win that race tomorrow if I were you.”

  The words were gently spoken, but Lowell understood at once that he was being given what amounted to a command. “No, sir,” he said vigorously. “Midnight never does well two days in a row, especially against generals!”

  Malone laughed and then sobered. “I’m not sure I did the right thing, helping you get back into this war. We’ll be leaving shortly to join General Lee.”

  “We’ll be going north?” Lowell asked, excitement in his voice.

  “It’s no secret.” Major Malone’s rugged face was suddenly tense, and he shrugged his thin shoulders. “Everybody seems to know what’s coming. I just hope Hooker doesn’t know what Lee is up to.”

  “Major, thank you for helping me!”

  Malone had a sudden vision of this eager young man lying dead on a battlefield. It’ll be all my fault if that happens, but I can’t think on that. “Your home is just outside of Richmond?” he asked suddenly.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I wish mine were! Well, there’s no time for training you. You can serve as a courier for the general. That means you’ll be a messenger boy, but I don’t have to tell you how important that is.”

  “I understand, sir. It’s great just to be here!”

  Again a picture of this keen-eyed young man lying bloodied in a distant field flashed through Malone’s mind, and he said impulsively, “After the sergeant gives you your instruction, take what time there is and be with your people. We won’t pull out for four days—be back by then.”

  “What about the race, Major?”

  “Wait until the general beats you,” Malone answered with a dry smile. “Then go see your people.” They were almost to the spot where a sergeant stood watching them, and he added quietly, “Enjoy your time with your family. It may be the last you’ll have for a time.”

  Mark and Rooney had grown very close, and Rooney often thought of what the tall man had said about loving a woman named Beth. She had said nothing about the matter and was certain that he had no memory of it. But she had grown fond of him and wished that he would confide in her. One afternoon she was sitting with him, reading from a novel called Ivanhoe, and when he seemed bored, she put it down. Idly she asked, “You never thought of marriage, Mr. Rocklin?”

  Her question troubled him, she saw, and he hesitated before saying, “Yes, I did think of it once.” He let the silence run on, then shook his head. “I wish now that I had married.”

  “Why didn’t you?” Rooney asked quietly.

  Mark stared into the fire, his dark eyes grown moody. When he spoke, it was in a low voice, almost a whisper. “Pride, I guess. She wasn’t of our class—” Suddenly he realized what he was saying and gave Rooney a startled glance.

  He’s thinking I’m not of Lowell’s class, Rooney knew instantly. She saw that he was embarrassed and said, “It’s all right. I understand.”

  A look of relief washed across his face, and he said, “You’re a discerning young woman, Rooney.”

  She was exactly that, and as she sat there listening to the fire crackle, the missing pieces of Mark Rocklin’s life fell into place. His family all realized that he was a man who was incomplete. He’d been a driven man, traveling much and coming home to Gracefield as if it were a safe harbor, but restless and unhappy even when there.

  He fell in love with a poor girl but wouldn’t marry her because of his family, Rooney thought. I wish he’d married. He’s been so unhappy! Then she asked, “What became of her, Mr. Rocklin? Did she marry somebody else?”

  “No, she died.” The words were harsh and almost grim, and Rooney knew the door had slammed shut. She began to speak of other things, but she understood Mark Rocklin’s unhappiness now, she felt, more than his own family did.

  Buck suddenly burst into the room, crying, “It’s Lowell! He’s ridin’ in!”

  Rooney threw down the Sir Walter Scott book and ran through the door, closely followed by Buck. They found Rena, Susanna, and David on the front porch, and there was Lowell riding in on Midnight!

  “Lowell!” David exclaimed as the young man dismounted. “We didn’t expect you back.”

  “Well, I left a sergeant and came back a private, David, but I’m serving under General Stuart!”

  Susanna could not have cared less about his rank but simply put her arms out. He gave her a fierce hug, then did the same for Rena. “Dad’ll be home soon. I met him in Richmond.” Then he turned and clapped his hand fondly on Buck’s shoulder, saying, “I’ve got a present for you in my saddlebags. It’s a Yankee officer’s pistol. Go get it, but don’t shoot anybody!”

  Buck leaped off the porch with a yelp and was soon brandishing the pistol wildly. “I hope it’s not loaded,” David said, grinning at Buck.

  “No, it’s not.” Lowell turned to Rooney then, and there was a sudden silence. Susanna broke it, saying, “Rena, you come and help me fix this man something to eat.”

  Rena started to protest, but Susanna gave her arm a sudden pull toward the door. “David, take Midnight to the barn.” She herded Rena inside, pausing at the door to give Rooney a sly smile. “Bring him in when you’re through with him, Rooney,” she said.

  Lowell smiled suddenly and took Rooney’s arm. “My grandmother is a smart woman.” They stood there looking at each other, and then he demanded, “Come with me.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To the scuppernong arbor,” Lowell said, a sly grin forming. “That’s where us Rocklin men take pretty girls to kiss them!”

  Rooney blushed but then said, “All right, I’ll do it.” He laughed at her red face, then led her around the house to the arbor. When they were inside, he looked around. “I wasn’t joking about this place, Rooney. My father said he got more kisses here when he was courtin’ than anywhere else. He even proposed to Melanie Benton right on this very spot.”

  “She turned him down and married your uncle Gideon, didn’t she?”

  “That’s right. You’ve really boned up on my family history.” He reached out and took her by the arms, but when he tried to embrace her, she resisted. “What’s the matter?” he asked. He’d looked forward to this moment, but now she was apprehensive. Thoughts had come to him, such as No woman wants a man with only one leg! And now he stood there waiting for her to tell him that she’d changed her mind.

  But Rooney was thinking about what Mark had said. “She wasn’t of our class.” Rooney slowly lifted her eyes and said, “You come from a proud family—”

  At once Lowell expelled his breath. “Never mind the family!” he said almost roughly. “I’m not asking you to marry the family. I’m asking you to marry me! If they don’t accept you, we’ll go make our own place!”

&nbs
p; Rooney’s eyes filled with unbidden tears, for it was what Mark should have said to that girl years ago. Throwing her arms around him, she cried out, “Oh, Lowell, I love you so!”

  He held her fast, kissed her, and then said huskily, “My father said he’d horsewhip me if I let you get away—and my grandmother is just about as bad!”

  They stood there relishing each other’s company for close to an hour—until Buck’s head poked around the corner. “You two gonna stay out here all day? Come on, Lowell. You gotta show me how to load the pistol, and Miz Rocklin wants to see you.” He frowned at Rooney, adding, “You sure are selfish, Rooney, hoggin’ Lowell so the rest of us can’t have him.”

  Rooney laughed at Buck, then went to him and asked, “Do you know what a brother-in-law is…?”

  Mark awakened himself by uttering a short cry, the result of a ragged pain that tore across his stomach and brought him out of a fitful sleep. Cool hands touched his brow, and he heard Melora’s voice saying, “Drink this, Mr. Rocklin.” He swallowed the bitter liquid she held to his lips, then lay back on the bed.

  “Sorry to be such a baby,” he muttered. “You don’t have to sit up with me, Melora.”

  “I’m not sleepy.” Melora pulled the oak rocker by the window up to the bed and began knitting. As she worked, she talked quietly of the small affairs that made up the lives of the Rocklins and the Yancys. Not the war—she didn’t speak of that. She spoke of the new calf, the fox that Box had killed carrying off a chicken, the church supper that had been such a success.

  Mark lay there rigidly until the pain subsided, then relaxed as the room grew fuzzy. Her voice was warm and soft and pleasant. As she spoke and he felt sleep dragging him down, something came to him. At first he thought, It’s none of my business, but the thought persisted. So he said carefully, “Melora?”

  “Yes, Mr. Rocklin?”

  “When are you and Clay getting married?”

  “Why, we haven’t decided.”

  Mark felt a sharp disappointment at her answer. He fought off the drowsiness that fogged his mind, opened his eyes, and struggled to sit up. Then Melora blinked and said, “What’s wrong? Is it the pain?”

  “No, it’s not that.” Mark had pulled himself into a sitting position, and Melora leaned forward, anxiety in her eyes. “Melora, don’t put it off! Marry Clay as soon as you can—tomorrow!”

  Melora was startled by the passion in Mark Rocklin’s voice. She knew him to be a man who kept his emotions under strict control, but now his face was set in a grim expression. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I waited too long once. There was…a girl I loved. And I let her slip away.” Haggard lines creased the sick man’s face, and he reached out to Melora. When she took his hand, he said hoarsely, “Nobody has tomorrow, Melora. All you and Clay have is now. I know Clay thinks it would be unfair to marry you until he’s back safely from the war. But if you love him, give him what time there is. If it’s only a day, that’s better than missing love altogether!”

  The medicine hit Mark then, and he lay back. His eyes closed, and he muttered a few words before dropping off into a deep sleep. Melora remained to be sure that he was all right, then rose and left the room. It was after midnight, and she knew that he would sleep, so she went to her room. For a long time after she went to bed, she thought of Mark’s words: “All you and Clay have is now.”

  The next morning she rose early and said little to anyone. Mark seemed not to remember the incident, and she did not mention it. All morning she worked; then in the afternoon she changed and went for a long walk in the woods. As she moved across the soft earth, following the path beside the creek, she thought of the times she and Clay had walked there in earlier days.

  Finally she turned and walked back down the path, and when she came out of the timberline, she saw Clay riding down the road. He saw her at once and spurred his horse. Dismounting, he moved toward her, and she put her arms up. Clay said with surprise, “Melora, what is it?” She was not a woman to parade her emotions, but now she held him tightly, lifting her face. He kissed her and as always was totally aware of her femininity.

  “Clay, I want to get married—now!”

  Clay’s face stiffened with surprise. “Why, Melora—” He began to protest, but she cut him off by placing her fingers over his lips.

  “I know. You’re afraid you won’t come back. That I’ll be a widow. Clay, I’ve waited for you too long. I want you, even if it’s only for a day or a week!”

  Clay was amazed at Melora’s intensity. Her dark eyes pleaded with him, and her lips were soft yet firm with purpose. “But what if there’s a child?”

  “Then I’ll have something of you, Clay. I love you, and we have little time. All we have is now. Let’s not let it slip by!”

  Clay pulled her close, kissed her again, then lifted his lips. “Day after tomorrow you’ll be my wife, Melora!” Then he laughed, and there was a joy in him that Melora had never seen. “Come on. Let’s go tell Mother to start baking the wedding cake!”

  Hand in hand they ran like children down the road, and Clay’s mount threw his head up, puzzled at this sudden freedom. Then with a whicker, he moved into the field and began cropping the tender blades of emerald grass.

  CHAPTER 23

  NOW IS FOREVER

  Clay walked out of the house and headed for the barn. The sky was painted a hard bright blue, and clouds white as cotton sailed majestically overhead. He’d never felt better and had given Rooney a tremendous hug, stating firmly, “I’d have horsewhipped this boy of mine if he hadn’t proposed to you!”

  As he moved toward the stable, he heard a voice and turned to find Rena running out the front door. “Daddy, are you going to the Yancys’?”

  “Sure am. I’m taking your grandmother’s wedding dress to my bride-to-be.”

  Rena looked pale and hesitated slightly. “Take me with you, Daddy.”

  “Why, sure! Come along. You’re going to be the maid of honor, so you and Melora can make all the plans.” He’d spoken with his mother, asking why Rena was so subdued. She’d said, “She and Josh had a spat,” and Clay had thought little of it, saying, “They’ll make it up.”

  Now as he climbed into the buggy, he noted the girl’s pale face and asked, “Are you sure you want to go, Rena?”

  “I have to go with you, Daddy,” she said, lifting her chin defiantly.

  Clay hesitated, for on this trip he wanted to be alone. But there was a vulnerability in his daughter’s wan face that made him say, “Why, sure, Rena. I’d have asked you if I’d known you wanted to go.”

  Rena climbed into the buggy, and soon Gracefield was left behind. “I’ve missed you,” Clay said, turning to smile at her. “And Dent said to tell you that you and your grandmother will be staying with Raimey after the wedding.” He put his arm around her, squeezed her, then added, “You’ve got to go see that my grandson gets raised the right way!”

  Thomas Denton Rocklin had been born to Dent and Raimey in early March, and no one at Gracefield had had the opportunity to spend much time with the newest Rocklin.

  Rena tried to pull away, but he held her fast. She really liked to be held and was glad that he kept his arm around her. “Daddy…,” she said tentatively, “I was horrible to Josh.…”

  As the girl poured out the story, Clay understood how important this thing was to her. She was sensitive—too much so, he thought at the time—and the boy had been someone her own age to talk to. Susanna had told him how fond Rena was of Josh, and now he listened, then said carefully, “Too bad! Nothing much worse than hurting a friend, is there?”

  “He hates me!”

  “No, he doesn’t,” Clay said firmly. “Josh has too much sense for that. His feelings are hurt, but he’ll get over it.”

  As they drove along, he talked to her easily, keeping his arm around her shoulder. He had a very special love for this daughter of his and knew that she was very dependent on him. He had never escaped the sadness over the loss of
the years when he’d been away. He’d missed so much of her girlhood, and she’d missed having a father. Now he was determined to make it up to her. The war had come, and he had to do all he could during the fleeting times that they were together.

  Finally they drove into the opening where the Yancy cabin sat and saw the smoke pouring out of the chimney. Clay said, “Hope that smoke means Melora’s cookin’ up somethin’ good!”

  As he stopped the team, the door opened and Buford stepped outside, followed by Melora and the others. “Well, I never!” he exclaimed. “Comin’ round at dinnertime again!”

  Clay stepped down, then turned to help Rena. Melora came over to put her arm around Rena. “I’m so glad you came with your father, Rena. You’ve got to help me plan everything.”

  Clay reached into the buggy and brought out an oblong box. “I hope you’re the same size as my mother was when she married. She says you are.”

  “I won’t be as beautiful as she was, Clay.”

  “That’s your opinion, not mine.” Clay smiled warmly and winked at Buford. “How much dowry do I get for taking this old maid off your hands, Buford?”

  “Daddy!” Rena exclaimed. “You ought to be ashamed!” But Clay only laughed at her and sat down with his host to drink some fresh buttermilk. He was exuberant in a fashion that none of them had seen before, and for the next ten minutes kept them all smiling as he spoke of how he was robbing them of their cook.

  Rena watched Josh, who said not one word—and had not even looked at her. All of the younger Yancys crowded around her, and she smiled and talked with them, but she felt a sharp despair when Josh retired to a dark corner of the room and sat with his face turned down.

  Clay had observed this, too, and thought quickly. “Melora, do you still have that case of books I sent—the old ones?”

  “Why, yes, Clay.” Melora had been watching the little drama, not missing the misery on the faces of both Josh and Rena. She understood at once what Clay was up to and said, “They’re up in the bedroom in the loft.”