A Place of Peace

by Iris Penn

  Melinda glanced down at Alisander’s pistol. She thought of her own rifle tied to the back of the saddle near the blankets. If she asked him, he might could get it for her…

  “They won’t shoot with you in front of me,” he said.

  “That doesn’t make me feel much better,” she replied.

  “Hang on,” he whispered. Before she could reply, the horse bolted off to the side and started galloping across the field. Melinda clutched the mane of the horse and held on as the horse sped up.

  “We’ll outrun them before they see us,” he said, urging his horse faster. Melinda felt like she was starting to slip when a strong arm looped around her waist and held firm.

  “I’ve got you,” he said. “I won’t let you fall.”

  Melinda felt safe, and it didn’t seem to matter how fast they went, she knew he was right.

  As the Union riders faded in the distance, Alisander slowed his horse from a gallop to a brisk walk. He still scanned the surrounding countryside, always watchful.

  “So,” he said. “Where are we going again?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, hesitant. “None of this looks familiar to me. I mean, the last time I was down here, I was ten.”

  Alisander nodded and although she couldn’t see him, she could feel the motion of his head moving.

  “She had a farm,” Melinda continued. “Cows, mostly. Probably still does if the Yanks have left her alone.”

  “When had you last heard from her?” asked Alisander.

  Melinda thought for a moment. “There was a letter,” she finally said. “Before the war. My father wouldn’t really talk about it much, but I could tell it bothered him. He just told me that it said she wished we would visit more. That’s all.”

  “Look there,” Alisander motioned towards the distance. “Looks like railroad tracks.”

  Melinda squinted and thought she saw two parallel rails shining in the late afternoon light. It was almost like an arrow pointing them south.

  “That line goes straight into Nashville,” said Alisander. “That’s why we’ve got the Union camps nearby. They are watching the tracks.”

  Alisander stopped the horse and dismounted. Melinda felt the coolness in his absence. Leaving her on the horse, he walked over to the tracks and, after removing one of his gloves, placed a bare hand on the metal. He looked up and down the tracks, noting where they rounded the hills in the southern distance out of sight.

  He straightened up. “Five miles,” he announced, but Melinda wasn’t sure what he was talking about. The area around them was hilly, and Melinda knew her aunt’s farm had to be farther south. She didn’t remember the cows grazing on the sides of hills. Her aunt’s land was flatter and more spread out.

  “What do you suggest?” she asked him as he walked back to the horse. Alisander took his hat off and wiped his brow with his handkerchief.

  He shrugged. “Move on into Nashville,” he said. “If we go far enough, something’s bound to trigger your memory. Or…we could always ask someone. What was your aunt’s name?”

  “Mary,” said Melinda.

  “If someone knows Mary Jacoby’s farm, they would tell us, right? I mean, she’s not a pariah, is she?”

  “Her married name was Oxley,” said Melinda. “Mary Oxley. Her husband was a lot older than she was, and died not long back. Four years ago, maybe. But she still kept the farm, as far as I know.”

  “Okay,” said Alisander as he mounted back up behind her. “We’ll keep heading south. We’ll inquire about the farm of Mary Oxley when we get closer to town.”

  The followed the tracks until the first buildings along side began to appear. Alisander kept watching for movement and would steer the horse away from any rustling or slight sound he heard.

  “Let’s stop for a break,” said Alisander. “You must be hungry.”

  “A little.”

  After they had dismounted, Melinda felt her back popping. She was stiff from the riding and her body ached. She watched as Alisander unloaded what he could from the horse. After he spread his blanket out on the ground, it was almost like having a picnic beneath a tree.

  As they sat across from one another on the blanket, Alisander rummaged around in his sack.

  “More hardtack, I’m afraid,” he said, offering her some with his apology. “If it helps any, you do get used to it after a while.”

  Melinda smiled and took her half. “What will do you after the war? Back home to Kentucky?”

  “I don’t know how much longer this war is going to go on,” said Alisander as he chewed. “I hear they are pushing for peace in the north, but Lincoln won’t hear of it.”

  “What about your family?” she asked.

  “My father is a retired legislator for the state house of representatives. He retired right after Kentucky voted not to secede. He was rather indignant about that matter.”

  “And your mother?”

  “Oh, she’s still there, too. Piddling around the house and fussing after my father. She was a seamstress before she met him. He had brought in a suit and asked her to hem it before his first electoral campaign. She slipped a note in his jacket pocket when she returned it to him.”

  “How very forward of her,” remarked Melinda.

  Alisander nodded. “Yes, I am the youngest of five children. My two brothers joined the Union army. Father was not too happy about that, let me tell you. My sisters are both married and have left home.”

  “Sounds interesting,” sighed Melinda. “I was always wondering what it would have been like to have been part of a large family like that. Sadly, that part of my life is past. My mother died before she could have more children. It was just myself and my father for a long time.” Her voice grew somber. “A long time…”

  Alisander smiled and reached over, patting her hand. His sudden touch sent chills down her arms.

  “You can have a family of your own,” he said. “You can have as many children as you want. Unfortunately, it’s not quite as picture perfect as you would imagine. More children means more arguments and more mouths to feed, so there’s always a downside to things.”

  “But you were never alone,” said Melinda, wishing he would keep holding her hand. “That must have been comforting, knowing that someone was always there.”

  “I suppose,” said Alisander. He swallowed the remainder of his hardtack with a frown. “You know,” he said. “When we get to town, I am going to treat you out to a real meal. One that’s actually cooked. What do you say?”

  Melinda actually felt herself blush. “That sounds like the best thing I’ve heard today.”

  ***

  THE CITY OF NASHVILLE in the summer of 1862 was a collection of disgruntled citizens and swarms of blue-clad soldiers camped in every conceivable open area. They saw all the smoke from the hundreds of campfires before they saw the city itself, and every available area seemed to have an entire army camped on it.

  They paused at the train station and watched one of the locomotives unload three more boxcars of Union soldiers. Melinda blinked back tears as she watched them disembark, her mind flashing back to the night on her farm.

  She worried about Alisander, but for the most part, the troops seemed to ignore him. Perhaps one lone officer wasn’t enough to get everyone riled up about.

  “It’s like a knife being driven into the heart of the state,” whispered Alisander in Melinda’s ear. “We will never retake this city now.”

  She thought about the Confederate army down in Mississippi. They might as well have been on a different planet for all the good it did them in middle Tennessee.

  “What do we do?” asked Melinda, as Alisander’s grip tightened around her waist as the horse began to sidestep nervously in response to the shrill whistle of the train.

  “We move on,” said Alisander. “I will get you to your aunt’s. I don’t think they will bother us. Out in the fields, yes, perhaps, but they won’t concern themselves with us in the city proper.”

  “I th
ink you’re right,” said Melinda. She noticed that some of the troops were staring directly at them, but not one of them seemed the slightest bit interested.

  Dusk was gathering along the tracks, and other passengers disembarking were heading through the station and into waiting carriages arriving to pick them up. Most of them didn’t look local, and Melinda couldn’t help but notice how fancy their dresses were. By comparison, she felt as if she had been out slinging feed to hogs all day.

  Alisander glanced up at the sky, noting the twilight approaching. “I think we should find a hotel for the evening,” he said. “And then I will take you for that meal I promised.”

  Melinda sighed. A night in a good bed sounded like heaven to her…

  About a mile past the train station on a little side dirt road, the swinging sign marked “HOTEL” seemed to call to them. It was a small hotel, perhaps not more than five rooms or so, but the VACANCY sign hung in the window, and Alisander steered his horse towards it. By the time they pulled themselves off the horse and plodded towards the front porch, golden lights twinkled from the windows and left sharp squares of yellow along their path, guiding them into the bright interior. Alisander took Melinda’s hand as they walked up the steps. Although he still had on his gloves, she could feel his strong grip, and the chilling sensation surged through her again at his touch.

  “After you,” he said, opening the door for her.

  “Why, thank you, sir,” she bowed her head as she moved past him. He swept in behind her, hat in hand.

  “We need two rooms, please,” he said to the woman at the desk. The woman at the desk looked at them both, noting the grime of the road and the disheveled appearance of them both. Alisander had managed to maintain some air of dignity, as his uniform concealed a lot of the light colored dust, but Melinda felt like she did at the train station: like someone who had been not only feeding the hogs, but rolling around with them at the same time.

  “Certainly, sir,” the woman smiled at Alisander. Melinda caught that look. She suddenly realized that there would be plenty of young women giving a handsome young officer a second look and a smile, including this one. She didn’t know why, but a stab of jealously came over her as she looked at the woman. By telling her they needed two rooms, Melinda understood that the woman at the desk now knew they weren’t married, and that signaled Alisander’s sudden availability.

  Oh, Melinda, she thought. You’ve really been on the farm too long.

  The woman at the desk produced the guest book, and Alisander signed his name with a flourish.

  “Who are you with?” asked the woman at the desk. “We don’t get many of our boys coming back through these days. Most of them are down in Mississippi.”

  Alisander smiled at her, and Melinda felt that stab again. “I am on leave, ma’am,” he said. “The 2nd Kentucky Cavalry under Colonel Morgan.”

  The woman seemed to beam. Melinda felt like slapping Alisander for being so… nice. She cleared her throat, hoping to convey her tiredness and desire to go up to her room.

  “Forgive me,” said Alisander. He pulled a golden coin from his pocket and placed it on the desk for the woman. “This is a five-dollar gold piece,” he said. He leaned forward a little, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Just between you and me,” he said. “I don’t put much trust in paper money.”

  The woman’s eyes shone as she saw the money. “Yes, sir?”

  Alisander glanced over at Melinda, who promptly looked away from him, embarrassed. He then leaned over the desk and motioned for the woman to come closer. Melinda watched him whisper something to her, but she couldn’t make out the words.

  The woman nodded, glancing over at Melinda in the process. She handed Alisander two keys from beneath the desk, and Melinda saw Alisander slip another coin, silver this time, into the woman’s hand.

  “You’re in rooms five and six,” the woman said. “There are fresh linens upstairs, and there is a washroom available down the hall. I can warm some water up for you if you want. Might take a while, though.”

  “That will be fine,” said Alisander.

  The woman smiled again. “Just upstairs to your left.”

  “Thank you, again.” He took Melinda by the arm and started to steer her towards the stairs.

  Melinda looked back at the woman at the desk, who was looking at the gold coin like she had never seen one before. As Melinda and Alisander started up the stairs, she watched as the woman vanished into a back room behind the desk.

  “Well,” said Alisander as he stood beside door number 5. “This is you, I guess.” He handed her a key. Melinda started to yawn despite herself. The thought of the bed…

  “I need…” she trailed off. What did she need? Food? Rest? A place where she didn’t have to worry about being homeless? The thoughts were overwhelming.

  “You should get some sleep,” said Alisander. “I told the woman downstairs to procure you a change of clothes. Since I don’t know anything about women or what they wear, I supposed she would be helpful in picking something out.”

  “You didn’t have to do that,” she said, but deep inside her, she was grateful he did. Her dress was caked with dust and sweat and made her feel very self-conscious. The thought of clean clothes coupled with a bath was almost overwhelming to her.

  “It’s nothing,” he replied, smiling. “I think you would be beautiful dressed in a burlap sack.” He touched her cheek, smudging a trace of dirt that had stuck there.

  Beautiful? He just said the word beautiful… She didn’t know what to say.

  As they stood there at the door, another girl, younger, clomped past them up the stairs and down the hall. In her hands were two very heavy buckets of steaming water. Alisander watched her pass. The girl went down to the end of the hall and opened the door at the end. Melinda saw a large tub in the center of the room. The girl dumped both buckets into the tub and came back out, moving faster with her now empty buckets.

  “Ma’am?” she said as she stopped. “My mother says there will be clean towels for you in the washroom. I will bring more water up as soon as it warms from downstairs.”

  “Thank you,” said Melinda. The steam from the tub was calling to her.

  “Go on,” said Alisander. “I must go see about my horse. I’ll stop by later when you’re finished.”

  He put his hat back on and trotted downstairs, leaving Melinda standing next to room 5 with a key in her hand. Despite her best efforts, tears welled up. She watched as Alisander doffed his hat to the woman at the desk as he went out. Another day and his leave would be over, and he would be gone back out to the war.

  She realized that after tomorrow, there would be a chance she would never see him again. She gripped the railing on the steps and leaned over. She couldn’t quite come to grips with the feelings that were washing over her.

  She felt like she was in love with him.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  THE WAGON WAS OLD, but mostly functional as Holcomb noted some places near the wheels where the wood was starting to soften and rot from neglect, but he decided it would do. At the moment, they had no other options and Nashville wasn’t too far away if they stayed on the road.

  He drove the wagon out of Franklin in the cool morning air feeling better than he had in a long time. The bed he slept in felt like sleeping in a pile of cotton, and his aches from traveling had all but vanished. After a quick breakfast and a hardy thank you to Judith, he left the hotel and started back to Colby and Lilly, whom he assumed were waiting patiently for his return.

  He could see the smoke from their morning fire and the stacks of crates and boxes resembling a small fort near the roadside. He thought they were lucky that no one had passed by them in the night: raiders or worse.

  Lilly, he could see, was draped in a blanket with her back against a tree. Colby was poking at the fire, sending sparks up each time he prodded it. Neither one of them seem to notice the wagon that was approaching. A bad sign, if Holcomb had meant to do them harm.


  “Hey there,” yelled Holcomb.

  Colby shaded his eyes to look down the road. He waved at Holcomb. Holcomb immediately noticed the change that had come over Colby’s face. He glanced over at Lilly, who was staring off into the far distance, seemingly in a content daze. Holcomb shook his head as he rolled the wagon up to a stop and hopped off.

  “What did you two do?” Holcomb asked, already knowing the answer. He noticed the apples, now ant covered, lying in the grass.

  “Have some coffee, friend,” said Colby, handing him a cup. “It’s one of God’s days.”

  “Yes it is,” muttered Holcomb taking the coffee and sipping it. It was strong and bitter.

  “Bacon?”

  “No,” said Holcomb. “I ate at the hotel.” He motioned to the wagon. “This will do.”

  Lilly slowly rose to her feet, some stray grass sticking in her hair. “What did it cost us?”

  “Well,” said Holcomb. “That’s the thing. I have to go back and trade more of our stuff. The cost of the wagon was thirty dollars.”

  Lilly narrowed her eyes. “Thirty dollars? You are kidding, right? For this?” She walked over to the wagon, letting her blanket fall away. She ran her hands over the sides, feeling the roughness of the wood. “It’s worth ten, maybe.”

  Holcomb shrugged. “Our options were limited. I was lucky to find this one.”

  “No.”

  Holcomb bristled. “What do you mean? I told the owner I would come back, and I mean to keep my word.”

  Lilly paused, facing Holcomb. “We are not giving away any more of our stuff. It’s ours and we are going to keep it.”

  Holcomb glanced over at Colby, expecting him to show some support, but Colby was making a point to not look at either of them, obviously not wanting to take sides.

  “You gave her our medicine, I assume,” said Lilly. “That’s enough. That bottle is worth this wagon, I reckon. We don’t need to lose any more.”

  “You don’t understand. We had a deal.”

  “Well,” said Lilly. “Deals change all the time. We’re going to load this wagon and leave for home. That’s my decision.”