A Place of Peace

  “What is it about this girl?” she finally asked. “Why her? How can a man fall in love with a picture?”

  “She looks… kind, I guess,” said Colby, feeling suddenly strange discussing Melinda with Lilly. “I can’t explain it.”

  Lilly nodded and her fingers continued to skate along his leg. “You’ve been alone too long, Colby,” she finally said. “Your life before the war. You were alone. You were going home alone to what? An empty house and a farm. You like the idea of this girl because it’s what you think you should have. A good little farmwife to help you. One that might give you sons to help on the farm.” She cleared her throat. “How did you know her father? What did you owe him? Nothing.” She finished dressing his leg as she spoke, her voice growing tighter.

  “What do you want, Lilly?” asked Colby.

  She looked away from him and when she stood to put her medical supplies back in their boxes, there was a sudden coldness that filled the space between them. She had retreated to her spot across from him on the other side of the fire. All he could see of her were her eyes glittering at him and reflecting the firelight.

  “It doesn’t matter what I want,” said Lilly. “I don’t need a man to take care of me, if that’s what you’re getting at.” He saw her hand absently creep up to rub at her neck. “But… after my father died, I didn’t know what I was going to do. Everyone was gone off to the war, and there was no one left. Until you and John came by…” Her hand dropped back into her lap. “That was it.”

  “Lilly…”

  “Wait, Colby, don’t say anything,” she said, her words coming out rushed. “I’m not saying there has to be a future with you and me. In fact, I am very naïve to think there could be. But what I am saying is that I am here, and that girl is not. She’s a ghost. She’s an ideal. If you find her, your illusion of her will be forever gone. Will you be able to live with that? Most people couldn’t.”

  “Lilly, I think you’re looking for someone to run to, and it just happened to be me that wandered by in your time of need.”

  “You think that?” she laughed a little. “Now you’re the one who is naïve.”

  “You never answered my question from before. Not really.”

  “What is it that I want?” she repeated. Now her eyes were glittering, not from the firelight, but from the sudden tears welling up. “I want a home,” she said. “I want to find a place of peace. I don’t want to live in fear.” She looked at him. “And I want someone to share that with. That’s all. If it’s with you, that will be wonderful, I think. But if it’s not, I will find it on my own.”

  “Shiloh,” said Colby.

  “What about Shiloh?”

  Colby smiled a little, rubbing at his leg. “Just funny that the word ‘Shiloh’ is a Hebrew word. It actually means ‘place of peace.’”

  “Well,” said Lilly. “That is something.”

  “I want to go home,” said Colby. “I am very tired, and I just want this to be over. Forget the war. Try to move on. I could do it, I think, with the help of a good woman.”

  “I’m not a good woman, Colby.”

  “You saved my life,” he said. “More than once, I think. I owe you everything.”

  Lilly smiled, and Colby saw the careful, strong façade she had built up around herself crack and fall away. Now she looked beautiful and radiant in the flickering light. He felt the memories of the touches on his leg stir him.

  “That’s kind of you to say,” she said.

  “It’s just the truth,” he replied.

  She moved away from the fire and vanished in the night shadows. When she reappeared, she was beside him at his shoulder. He turned to speak to her, but then she was kissing him. He leaned backward and pulled her over him. She fell over him, straddling him and leaning over him, trapping him.

  “Now what?” she asked. She leaned down and kissed him again.

  “Surrender,” he replied.

  The fire burned down to embers, but neither one of them noticed.

  ***

  HE COULD HAVE LEFT them there and just ridden to Murfreesboro. He thought about it, but then Lilly’s words echoed in his head: You’re too honorable. Holcomb frowned and kept riding forward. The horse was too used to being hitched to a wagon and didn’t like the rider he had on his back. Because of this, the horse kept pulling and not responding well to Holcomb’s commands.

  It was dark when he saw the lights of the first farmhouses ahead. He didn’t know if anyone would take kindly to him riding up on them at night. People were much more approachable in the daylight. A few dogs started barking and alerting their owners to the presence of a rider. Holcomb hoped a shotgun blast from a startled farmer wouldn’t be the next thing he heard.

  He thought he would have better luck riding on into Franklin proper rather than stopping at one of the outlining farms. He would be much more likely to find what he needed in a bigger town. There would be a much larger customer base for what he was peddling.

  The town of Franklin only held about a thousand citizens, Holcomb knew. But even though it was a small town, they would have what he needed, unless the Union had already marched through and taken everything, which was very likely considering they had come through on their way to Shiloh earlier that year.

  After skirting the outlying farms and their barking dogs, Holcomb saw the collected storefronts and little houses that made up the town. As it was dark, there was not a lot of activity outside tonight. Lamp light streamed through the windows and caused strange patterns of light along the ground outside. A small hotel was the first main building Holcomb rode up to, and he fastened his horse on the outside post and stepped inside.

  The lobby of the hotel was also a bar of sorts, and some of the locals were here drinking amber liquids out of square bottles. Most of them ignored John Holcomb as he walked in, but there were a few who turned. Holcomb still wore most of the tattered gray of his Confederate uniform, so he was seen with friendlier eyes perhaps.

  “Sir?” the plump woman behind the bar addressed him. “What can I do for you?”

  “Is there anywhere nearby that might have a wagon for sale or trade for? I am in need of one, or at least an axle. Mine busted outside of town.”

  The woman smiled. “Depends,” she said. “How much are you looking to spend?”

  Holcomb came closer and sat at the bar. “Truth is,” he leaned forward, almost whispering. “I don’t have any money, but I have some goods that might be worth it as a trade.”

  “Like what?” the woman’s curiosity was peaked.

  “I would have to see a wagon first,” said Holcomb. “I don’t know if I can tell you.”

  The woman laughed and poured Holcomb a shot of whiskey. “On the house,” she said, pushing the glass at him. “In hopes that you will tell me after a few rounds when your tongue is refreshed.”

  Holcomb smiled and took the glass. The whiskey was good and strong and blazed a trail all the way down his throat. His head spun a little. “I must admit,” he said, clearing his throat. “It’s been awhile since I had a shot of something like that.”

  “Good, right?” said the woman. “My neighbor makes it. He’s got himself a still up in the woods. Don’t know how much longer he’ll be able to make it, though. Hard to find corn these days after those locusts came through. Came through here last March and nearly wiped us out. Damn Yankees.”

  “Amen,” said Holcomb, draining his glass.

  “So,” said the woman, pouring Holcomb another shot. “You a soldier?”

  “Was,” said Holcomb. “Got captured at Shiloh, then got freed. Trying to make it home to Murfreesboro, if I can.”

  “Good,” said the woman. “We need more men like you. Fighters.”

  “I don’t know how much of a fighter I was,” said Holcomb. “Must not have been very good to be captured.”

  “I have a wagon,” said the woman. “It used to be my husband’s, but, rest his soul, he don’t need it any more. Got himself shot up at Fort Donelso
n when the Yanks came through. Stupid man. Told him to keep his fool head down.”

  Holcomb chuckled, then drank his second shot of whiskey.

  “We used the wagon to haul barrels of beer,” said the woman. “But the beer’s stopped coming, and it’s just sitting there. I’d be lucky if I even knew how to hitch a horse up to it.”

  “My name is John Holcomb,” he said, extending his hand. “I would like to do business with you, if we can come to terms.”

  “Judith,” said the woman, shaking his hand. “Judith Mallett.”

  Holcomb looked around the small lobby of the hotel. “Do you own this fine building?”

  Judith nodded. “Well, me and my husband opened it before the war. We weren’t much but a good stopping point for people traveling up to Nashville, but we did fairly well for ourselves. Kept fed, anyway.” She followed Holcomb’s gaze to some of the pictures hanging along the wall. “Family,” she said. “Now, let’s talk. You said you have things for trade?”

  Holcomb nodded. “Medicine mostly. Stuff that wasn’t confiscated by the Yankees on their march through. I’ve got chloroform, too. Almost a full bottle.”

  Judith frowned. “I don’t know what I would do with chloroform, though. What else do you have?”

  Holcomb thought about the stacks of supplies he had left with Lilly and Colby. “To be honest,” he said. “Most of my supplies I had to leave with the broken wagon. I couldn’t bring it all. Not on my one horse.”

  “I see,” said Judith. “How much is that chloroform worth?”

  “If you have a town doctor,” said Holcomb. “It would be most valuable, especially for men coming back from the war. I think I read the army was paying almost five dollars a bottle after Shiloh from private companies.”

  “Five dollars, huh?’ Judith whistled. “You can’t buy a good wagon these days for less than fifty.”

  “How much will you sell your wagon for?” asked Holcomb.

  “I will sell it for thirty dollars,” said Judith. “And that’s only because I think if I don’t, some Yank is going to come take it from me and I’ll have nothing at all.”

  “Fair enough,” said Holcomb. “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll have to ride back out for some more supplies, though, if you want to trade with me.”

  “Go on,” said Judith. “You can stay here for the night if you want. Give you a room and add it to the cost of the wagon.”

  “Sounds fair,” said Holcomb, suddenly realizing how nice a real bed would feel.

  “Drink up,” said Judith. “Night’s drifting away.”

  Holcomb didn’t have to be told twice.

  ***

  THE MORNING BROKE CLEAR and bright, and Colby found himself beneath the blanket with Lilly intertwined around him. The chill of the morning dew gave him goose bumps, and he noticed they had let the fire burn all the way down. It would take some time to get it going again to shake away the coolness of the morning.

  Lilly was still asleep as Colby untangled himself and stumbled over to the remains of the fire. He jabbed at a few of the embers with a stick and found one that was still faintly glowing. After a rigorous application of twigs and smaller chunks of wood, the flame caught and began to crackle. The warmth felt good against his skin. He looked over at Lilly who had now curled herself into a ball in Colby’s absence. He thought about the night before.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out the locket with Melinda’s picture in it. Perhaps Lilly was right, and she had been right all along. He was chasing a ghost. Maybe it was time to stop chasing the illusion and focus on what was real.

  He hobbled over to the stack of supplies and found the bacon. He selected a thick slab along with a few apples. Yes, this would do nicely. He would fry up the bacon along with some apples. There was even some salt he could lace the apples with to make them sweeter. As he squatted down and nurtured the fire, he noticed Lilly begin to stir beneath her blanket. As he prepared the skillet, he looked up and saw her staring at him.

  “Breakfast? My, my,” she batted her eyes. “How gentlemanly.”

  Colby grinned and continued to make the fire hotter. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lilly slip her simple green dress over her head and brush out her hair. “What are we having?”

  “Bacon and apples,” said Colby. “Not too bad, if I do say so.”

  Lilly pulled her legs up and folded her arms around them, resting her chin on her knees. She was staring at him, almost as if she were studying him. He shifted nervously and poked at the fire, causing it to blaze hotter.

  “John didn’t return last night,” remarked Lilly. “Do you think he’s okay?”

  “I’m sure he’s fine,” said Colby. He stared directly at the fire as points of sweat started to pop out over his forehead. He didn’t know if it was from the fire or not.

  Lilly sighed deeply. “So,” she said. “You must think I’m a wanton now.”

  “Not at all,” he replied. “If you are blaming yourself for what happened, please don’t. I’m as much as fault as you are.”

  Lilly laughed. “I’m not making any apologies, if that’s what you’re getting at. I rather enjoyed it.” She stood up and came over by the fire. Colby could still smell that perfume on her. She placed one hand on his shoulder. The weight of it sent shivers down his back.

  “I don’t want you to think you have dishonored me and sullied my womanhood,” she whispered to him. “I think it was natural, and beautiful, and I’m not sorry at all that it happened.”

  He turned to her and kissed her again. As she wrapped her arms around him and they sank back to the blanket, their breakfast was forgotten. The ants began their crawl towards the neglected apples lying on the grass.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  OVER THEIR MORNING CAMPFIRE, Melinda sat near Corporal Alisander Fairfax and chewed on a chunk of hardtack provided to her. It hurt to chew, and her jaw grew tired, even after she had soaked the hardtack in a mug of coffee.

  “I apologize,” said Alisander. “Hardtack and coffee may not be the best breakfast, but I’m afraid it will have to do.”

  Melinda nodded, still trying to chew. They had spent the night off the road far enough so their fire could not be seen by passers-by. Alisander had given her his extra blanket while he kept watch.

  He looked tired but cheerful as he sipped his coffee and winked at her.

  “Not far now,” said Alisander. “We’ll have to double up on the horse. Or you can ride, and I will walk.”

  “Nonsense,” said Melinda. “I’m not going to let you walk all the way to Nashville. We can share the horse.”

  “If you wish,” said Alisander. “I’m sorry you lost your wagon.”

  “Not your fault,” said Melinda. “It’s just one of those things.”

  Alisander glanced up at the sky. “We should probably get on the road. Daylight’s burning.”

  Melinda nodded, and as Alisander extended his hand, she took it. His strong grip hoisted her up with almost no effort. She felt like she was floating for an instant before she found her footing.

  “Give me a minute to gather our things,” he said, moving around the makeshift campsite. Within moments, he had gathered and rolled their blankets and secured them behind his saddle with the practiced efficiency of a soldier used to packing and moving in a hurry.

  “It would probably be best,” he said. “If you were to ride in front, and I get behind you. It would help steer the horse better.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  He brought his horse over to her and motioned for her to get on. With a hesitant step, she hooked her foot in the stirrup and swung herself up.

  “I do admit, you look a natural on a horse, miss,” he said.

  “Please stop calling me miss,” she said. “I know you’re trying to be polite, but please just use my name.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Alisander. “You look natural on a horse, Melinda.”

  Her name sounded strange to her when he spoke it, and she realized it ha
d been a long time since anyone had actually used her name, rather than calling her “miss” or “ma’am” or “lady.” She had to admit she liked the sound of it coming from him.

  He swung up easily behind her, and she shifted as he settled in the saddle. She was suddenly very aware of his chest as she pushed back into it, leaning into it like a comfortable chair. He moved his arms around her and took the reins of the horse.

  “This may be uncomfortable at first,” he said, his voice very close to her ear. “But we’ll get used to it.”

  Melinda closed her eyes. She was feeling very strange, especially with Alisander pressing up against her back. She felt… comforted and protected. Perhaps this is what she had been missing. Not her father. Not her home. Just another human being to physically make contact with her.

  “Are you ready?” he asked as the horse started to move towards the road. She steadied herself as the horse began to sway.

  “Yes,” she said, and then they were off.

  ***

  SHE ACTUALLY FELT LIKE she was dozing off in his arms as they galloped. The horse settled into a steady canter, and the miles seem to drift by. Before she knew it, the farms outside of Nashville began to crop up, and in the distance, she could see the scattered buildings and smoke of the Union camps on the outskirts.

  She had become used to the steady rocking on the horse leaning back against Alisander, and she realized that she regretted the fact that their ride eventually had to end.

  The horse slowed to a walk, and Alisander leaned up next to Melinda’s cheek.

  “I don’t know about getting too close to those camps over there,” he whispered. “Might be looking to take a shot at a lone Reb, you know.”

  Melinda nodded. “How far out are we?”

  Alisander surveyed the countryside like a seasoned scout. “A few miles. Maybe two.”

  In the distance two riders were approaching. Alisander drew his pistol, but kept it down by his side.

  “This might be ugly,” he said. “Those riders look like Yanks to me.”