by Iris Penn
“It’s not your decision to make,” said Holcomb. “We are going back to Franklin and I am going to give that woman, who is a widow, by the way, what she deserves.”
“I said no.” Lilly’s voice grew colder.
Colby stopped poking at the fire long enough to lean up on his crutch. “John’s right, Lilly,” he finally said. “We need to keep our part in the deal.”
Lilly looked like she had been slapped. She turned away from them both. “Fine,” she finally said, but her voice came out small. “Load it all up. I don’t care. It’s just that we need what we need to survive. We can’t just go giving everything away.”
Holcomb shook his head at Lilly’s impudence. He was sure she would have stood there and argued with him all day, but as soon as Colby spoke…
“Colby, can you help?” asked Holcomb as he shouldered the first box. “I’ll understand if you can’t balance on your leg.” He shot a look in Lilly’s direction. “Of course, you could always help.”
Lilly ignored him. Holcomb sighed again and began the arduous task of stacking box after box into the back of wagon. By the time he was finished, it was close to midday, and the sun was already blazing high overhead. This wagon was lacking a covering, and Holcomb knew traveling with their cargo on display was risky, but it was either that or abandon it here on the side of the road.
Holcomb wiped his brow and looked from Colby to Lilly back to Colby. Lilly was pointedly ignoring him, and Colby was staring at Lilly. Holcomb suddenly felt very much in the way: unwanted. He spat in the grass and sat on the wagon’s bench. It was almost as if he was just another piece of cargo to be hauled home.
***
LILLY SAT AND GLARED as Holcomb and Judith sorted through the boxes of goods as the wagon sat parked outside of the little hotel. She clutched onto Colby’s arm and leaned against him, making a point not to speak or help Holcomb.
Judith gave Lilly a cursory glance but for the most part ignored her stares.
“I have to say,” Judith said. “I think this about squares it.”
Holcomb nodded. In the end, Judith ended up taking a few boxes of dried goods and some blankets, but it was nothing near thirty dollars’ worth in Holcomb’s opinion. He figured she was taking pity on them.
After the wagon was lightened, Holcomb thanked Judith again and told her they had to get going. Judith said she understood and waved them off.
Three miles down the road, Lilly finally broke her silence.
“Colby, darling,” she said softly. “I think it’s time we said goodbye to John here and sent him on his way.”
“What are you saying?” asked Colby. Holcomb glared straight ahead, focused on steering the wagon on the road.
“Just something to think about,” she replied. “It’s just that we’re almost to Nashville, and I’m sure John’s wife must be missing him down in Murfreesboro.”
“Well,” said Colby, noticing the dark look that passed over Holcomb’s face, “that was always kind of the plan I guess. We were going to part when we got closer to home.”
Lilly nodded. Holcomb could feel her eyes boring through the back of his head. She wanted him gone, wanted to keep Colby all to herself without the third wheel getting in the way.
They approached the outskirts of Nashville during the late afternoon hours. The sun began to cast long shadows along the road, and Holcomb knew they were getting close to having to stop for the night.
Holcomb pulled the wagon off the road. Lilly, who had been dozing and leaning against Colby’s arm, seem annoyed at the sudden stopping of the wagon.
“Colby, may I have a word?” he motioned to climb off the wagon. Lilly started to move, but Holcomb held up a hand. “In private?”
Colby nodded and, untangling himself from Lilly’s clutch, hopped off the wagon. Lilly sighed, but kept quiet as the two men moved away from the wagon and off into the shadows.
“I’m concerned,” said Holcomb. He looked up the road towards the lights of Nashville. “Moving through the city with this wagon could be dangerous. I’m thinking we go around. Try to avoid the troops moving through the city. They see this wagon, we’re done, and it’s gone.”
“I agree,” said Colby.
“Another thing,” said Holcomb. He took a deep breath. “It’s obvious Lilly wants me gone, and I’ve been thinking. Maybe it is time. We can part ways before we get into Nashville, and I can make arrangements to get to Murfreesboro from here. Maybe get on board one of the trains moving south.” He paused, looking back at Lilly. “It might be better anyway.”
Colby followed Holcomb’s gaze back to Lilly. “Well,” he said. “I don’t know what to say. We’ve been through a lot you and me. I would hate that you would leave because of Lilly. I’m sure she’ll come around.”
Holcomb actually laughed. “She’s fallen for you, son,” he said. “She can’t let me get between you. No, I think it’s best, and then you and her can move on to your farm, settle down, and ride the rest of the war out in peace.”
“I hope it’s that simple,” said Colby. “I don’t know if the farm is even still there.”
Holcomb saw Colby’s hand move on its own to his pocket. He knew Colby was tracing the outline of the locket there.
“What about the girl in your locket?”
Colby smiled and pulled the locket out of his pocket, the silver glinting in the faint afternoon light. He noticed that it caught Lilly’s attention, and now she was staring at them both from the back of the wagon.
“I think you’re right, John,” said Colby. “It’s time to focus on what’s real.” He nodded towards Lilly. “But,” he continued. “She needs to know about her father. That letter needs to go to her. She still needs to be told.”
Holcomb nodded. “I agree, but finding her will be difficult, I think.” He looked up, noting the darkening sky. “We’ll camp off the road. In the morning, I can walk on into the city to the train station. We’ll say our goodbyes, then.”
***
LATER THAT NIGHT, AS Lilly and Colby sat with their blankets wrapped around them despite the latent summer heat stretching into the night, Lilly began whispering to Colby.
“What did you two talk about earlier?”
Colby said, “Nothing much. We should move around the city. Too dangerous to travel through with the wagon.”
“I see.” Colby could tell there was more she wanted to say, but she seemed to hesitate. “What about the girl?”
The girl? Melinda. “I don’t know,” said Colby. “If I find her, I will tell her about her father.”
“Is that all?” There was an edge to her voice.
“Yes,” said Colby.
“Okay,” said Lilly. She put her head on his shoulder. “I believe you.”
***
IN THE MORNING, HOLCOMB was gone.
Colby sat up, shaking the sleep off of him and unwrapping himself from both his blanket and Lilly, who had somehow managed to twine herself around him during the night.
He noticed some of the items in the wagon were gone, apparently Holcomb had taken enough with him to get to town and to trade if needed, but the majority of wagon was there, along with the horse, grazing quietly off near some trees.
Colby wiped the blur from his eyes. How could Holcomb just leave like that? Without saying goodbye? The man had saved his life at least twice. Colby owed him more than just a distant farewell hours after he had already left.
He pounded the side of the wagon. Lilly, awakened by the sudden coolness caused by Colby’s absence, sat up. “What’s wrong?”
“John,” said Colby, still hobbling around the side of the wagon. He felt helpless, like he wanted to simply punch through the side of the wagon. “He’s gone.” He tried not to notice Lilly’s sudden smirk.
“Oh? When did he leave? He didn’t say goodbye?”
“No, Lilly,” said Colby, his voice cracking. “He didn’t say goodbye. I guess he thought it would be better this way, but still… the man saved me.”
Colby looked down the road in the direction of Nashville. There was no sign of Holcomb in the distance, no faint figure on the horizon. He must have left very late into the night, probably as soon as Colby and Lilly had fallen asleep.
“Go with God, friend,” Colby murmured. He hoped Holcomb would make it to the train. He hoped Holcomb’s wife would be waiting for him. Colby looked back at Lilly, who was picking bits of grass off her skirt.
“Well,” she said, as she noticed Colby looking at her. She smiled. “Where do we go now?”
“Move around the fringe of the city,” said Colby. “It was what John suggested. I think he was right.”
“The fringe of the city?” Lilly seemed shocked. “Do you know how many encampments are around the fringe of the city? Where do you think the Yanks have their troops? They can’t all be boarded in town, you know. Every field and open space between here and Kentucky is full of camps. What do we do?”
Colby scratched his head. His leg was starting to hurt. He felt very tired, like he could sleep for a month.
“Then we go through the city, I guess."
Lilly nodded and began to gather up the remnants of their camp. Colby slumped against the side of the wagon, eyes closed. Even though Lilly was still with him, he felt very alone.
***
THE MEAL WAS SIMPLE but filling. Melinda sat in the little dining space of the hotel lobby and sighed as the last of the meal was swept off the table by the hotel owner’s daughter. Alisander sipped his coffee, making a face as the bitter taste crossed his tongue. It seemed as if sugar was in short supply even at the hotel.
“Thank you for this,” said Melinda. “And everything.” She looked down at her new dress: it was a dusky red color, simple but clean at least. The daughter had delivered it to her as she finished her bath. Melinda felt reborn as she slipped it on.
Now they were finishing their meal: chicken and roasted potatoes with coffee and fried apple pie. Melinda hadn’t eaten anything like this in what felt like a lifetime, and she felt renewed.
“It’s my pleasure, Melinda,” said Alisander. “All that’s left is to get you to your aunt’s farm. A task which shouldn’t be too difficult, I think.”
Melinda smiled and sipped her own coffee. It was very strong, but it was soothing and warm, and it blazed a trail down her throat and settled into the pit of her stomach.
The hotel owner’s daughter reappeared with a coffee pot. Alisander, after a quick nod of affirmation from Melinda, waved her off.
“Breakfast is at seven,” the girl said. “If there’s nothing else, then I’ll say good night to you both.”
Melinda sighed again. “After tonight, I don’t think I’ll be hungry again for a long time.”
Alisander winked at her. “It’s easy to say that now, but after a while, you learn to eat whenever you can.”
“I suppose,” said Melinda. She yawned in spite of herself. Alisander noted it.
“I think someone needs some sleep,” he said.
“No,” she replied. “I’m fine.” But as she said it, she yawned again. Alisander laughed, making Melinda feel like she was a small child who had stayed up past her bedtime.
“What is the plan for tomorrow?” she asked, trying to take her mind of her tiredness.
“Well,” said Alisander. “After a nice breakfast, we start our inquiries. Then it’s off to the farm, I suppose.”
“And then what?” Melinda was almost afraid to ask the question. Her voice dropped as she said it.
“Well,” Alisander leaned back in his chair. “I have my orders. Report back to Colonel Morgan. We are planning on going back into Kentucky, maybe farther north. Ohio, Indiana, perhaps.”
“So far north,” remarked Melinda. “Sounds dangerous.”
“It is,” said Alisander. “But as we go through Kentucky, I will get to see my family again. I’m sure my father and mother will be glad to see me, and to see that I’m still okay. My mother does worry so. She still thinks that I’m going to run into one of my brothers on the battlefield… on the other side.”
“I couldn’t imagine something like that,” said Melinda. “It must cross your mind every time.”
Alisander shrugged. “I know for the most part they’re in Virginia. I don’t think McClellan is going to come west anytime soon, so the odds of our encountering each other are slim, but who knows? They could always be reassigned or transferred to another unit. Grant’s going to need more men if he keeps pushing south.”
Melinda shuddered. The sudden talk of the war made everything real again. She thought of her father, and the disaster at Shiloh. All those boys not coming back…
Alisander finished his coffee and stood up, extending his hand. Melinda took it.
“Come on,” he said. “Seven o’clock is a lot earlier than it seems.”
***
SEVEN O’CLOCK WAS EARLIER, and Melinda felt like she had just fallen asleep when there was a gentle knock at the door. She sat up, blinking, taking a moment to remember where she was. She looked around her little room. A long way from her farmhouse, but it was nice while it lasted. She yawned as the knocking sounded again. Breakfast. She still felt full from the night before, but decided that she had better go ahead and eat because she didn’t know if more hardtack was in her future.
“Just a moment,” she called. She brushed out her hair and slipped on her new red dress. It seemed a bit formal for breakfast, but it was all she really had.
By the time she pulled her boots on and laced them up, the sun was blazing through her window. She opened the door to see Alisander standing there, hat in hand, smiling at her.
“Good morning,” he said. She noticed he had a daisy in his hand. “For you.”
“Oh, thank you,” she said as she took it. He must have picked it out of the flower bed from the front of the hotel.
“Shall we?” said Alisander. “We have a long day, and the smell of ham and eggs always puts me in a good spirit.”
Her stomach fluttered as she took his hand. He led her down the stairs into the small dining room. A few other guests were already there, drinking coffee and murmuring over the latest state of the news. The Northern troops didn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon, and the mood was sour and tense.
Melinda sat at one of the tables, catching the glances the other guests were giving Alisander, almost as if they were blaming him for the state of affairs in Tennessee. If Alisander noticed, he paid it no attention as he nodded thanks for the coffee the girl was now pouring into his cup.
“I don’t think we’re going to get back Nashville,” Alisander remarked, slightly loud enough for the others to hear.
“Well, maybe that’s a good thing,” said Melinda. “It will keep the fighting away from us.”
“Ah, that is a positive thing,” said Alisander. He looked at the other guests, who caught his eye and looked away.
Melinda hesitated, but felt she had to ask. “What happens next? After you deliver me? I… think I would worry about you a great deal if you are riding north. Worry if… something happened to you. I mean, if you get shot, or captured.”
Alisander smiled. He reached across the table and touched her hand. “Don’t worry about me,” he said, still smiling. “I’ll be okay.”
He sipped his coffee. “Now, we need to find the Oxley farm.”
Melinda wanted to believe that Alisander would be okay, but deep down, she had doubts. It wouldn’t take much, just a simple squeeze on a trigger from a random soldier, to simply end his life. Everything seemed to delicate and fragile now. The difference between any of them living or dying came down to a matter of chance. She shuddered. Her own coffee tasted bitter and cold.
“Did I hear you say ‘Oxley farm?’” asked one of the guests at the closest table. He was an older man with a white beard that kept threatening to dip down into his plate of eggs.
“Yes, that’s right,” said Alisander, turning to him. “Do you know where it is?”
The older man l
ooked Alisander up and down. “Depends on who’s asking.”
“This is Ms. Oxley’s niece,” said Alisander, pointing towards Melinda. “And I am her escort, Alisander Fairfax, 2nd Kentucky Cavalry. I’m seeing she gets there safely.”
The older man sighed and pushed his eggs around on his plate for a long moment. Melinda thought he had completely shut them off, when he spoke again.
“About a mile west on Old Elm Road,” he finally said.
Alisander’s eyes narrowed. “What are you not telling me? Is Ms. Oxley there? Do you know her personally? Is she okay?”
“Farm’s seen better days,” the old man said. “Ms. Oxley, too, for that matter. Then again, I guess we all have.”
Melinda felt a twinge of dread. “But is she okay?” she asked.
The man nodded. “I guess. She don’t take too kindly to visitors these days. In fact,” his voice lowered. “I fear she’s in trouble. Yank troops were out there day before yesterday. I think they were going to arrest her.”
“For what?” asked Melinda. “She’s an old woman. What crime could she have possibly committed?”
Melinda’s eyes grew blurry with tears. “Alisander, we’ve got to get out there. We’ve got to see if she’s okay.”
Alisander nodded. “I’ll settle up with the hotel. You go out and get the horse brought around.”
***
“THERE IT IS,” SHE said, pointing. “I can see the barns.”
They rode through one of the fences that surrounded the outer pastures. The few remaining cows that were left eyed them with little interest. At first, Melinda couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. The small farmhouse was there, a wisp of smoke curling from the chimney, and the barn was there over to the side of the fields. The morning clucking of chickens greeted them as they passed the coop. Memories started coming back to her as she looked at the little farm in front of them. Melinda remembered when she came here as a child. She looked over by the barn, knowing there would be a small red pump there, slightly rusty, and she knew that behind the house was a large woodpile, where she would build little cabins and forts out of the sticks, ruining any neat stacks that her aunt had labored over.