In His Eyes: A Civil War Romance

by Stephenia H. McGee

  Westley rolled his eyes and straightened his jacket. When this assignment ended, he would muster out and return to Belmont, where he would seek to be her husband in truth. It would take time to win her, but it was a battle he was willing to fight. He would not only have to earn her trust, but her forgiveness as well for the heartless way he had left her. But perhaps, during his western duty, if he penned his thoughts and sent them to her, then in time she might come to forgive him, and when he returned, they could start over.

  Westley weaved between countless people gearing up for a harrowing western bound wagon train and wondered how many of these hopeful faces would survive the journey. The war had only increased the western movement as desperate Southerners tried to start their lives anew in a wild and untamed wilderness. He’d heard enough tales as he made his way to St. Joseph to know that many would find their deaths long before they reached their new homelands, and then those who made it would face relentless hardships.

  Westley checked in with his contact officer, and was told to report back in four days to join up with a company K heading to Kansas. He hadn’t listened to many of the specifics. None of it really mattered. He would serve his six months, and then he would return to Ella.

  After securing a room at one of the many bustling inns that seemed more like saloons, Westley searched out a telegraph office, finding one just two streets over. He stepped inside and waited his turn in line, and after a few moments, the man at the window waved him up.

  “What city, sir?”

  Westley pushed a few coins across the counter. “Greenville, Mississippi. Addressed to Colonel Larson from Major Remington.”

  The man dipped his pen in a well of ink and scribbled on a notepad. “Very good. Message?”

  “Please send word to my wife. Upon completion of current assignment, I will muster out and return home.”

  The man bobbed his head and snatched up the piece of paper. “Will you return for a response, sir?”

  Would she send word back? Likely not. And he doubted Colonel Larson would waste his time in sending a response down the wire. “No.”

  The man lifted his brows, but didn’t reply. Westley turned for the door, but then stopped. “I am leaving four days hence, but if by chance word does return, I am staying at the inn two streets over.”

  “The Blue Moon?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “I’ll send my boy if word comes back.”

  Westley thanked the man and stepped back out into the sunshine, feeling as though he had taken the first step in claiming his wife. And for that, the world outside seemed all the brighter.

  He visited a bathing house and then a barber before returning to the inn for the evening meal. He found a table in the back where he could eat alone, and pulled out the little book he had promised Ella he would read. So far, he had made it through the gospels and had continued reading on to first John.

  As he read over the fourth chapter in the dim light, a verse seemed to grab hold of him and wrench his heart from his chest. Westley ran his finger over it. Beloved, let us love one another: for love is of God; and every one that loveth is born of God, and knoweth God. He that loveth not knoweth not God; for God is love.

  That was the answer. He did not know how to love Ella as she should be loved, with patience, kindness, and longsuffering, because he had not submitted to the one who was love.

  Westley leaned back and tapped his fingers, staring at the open book. The reading had begun as an obligation, but to his surprise he continued out of fascination. He had heard the stories, but he’d never noticed something about the Savior. Always the church portrayed him as kindly and meek, but he wasn’t weak. Jesus defied leaders, drove out greedy men in the temple, and volunteered for an excruciating death so that he could complete his purpose.

  This was someone that a man could look up to. One who he could learn from. And the more Westley read of him, the more he wanted to be like him.

  Lord, forgive me. I called on you as a boy, but I never really knew you. Teach me to live my life according to your ways. Show me your love that I might show that love to others. Especially my Ella.

  “Here’s your dinner, mister,” a wispy girl said, interrupting his prayer.

  He laid down the Bible and smiled at her as she plopped the plate of pork down in front of him. “Thank you, miss.”

  She smiled and moved away to the next table, and Westley put the book back into his breast pocket. He would have to tell Ella what he had been reading, and the discoveries he had made. Perhaps he would pen her a letter tomorrow and send it out before he left St. Joseph.

  He cut into his slab of pork, spearing a cube of the white meat and chewing it slowly. No telling what kind of pitiful supplies he would get out on the Santa Fe Trail. Best he eat well while he still had the chance.

  A boy sidled up to his table and leaned close. “You the Yankee soldier that sent a telegram to Mississippi?”

  Westley frowned. “I am.”

  The boy reached in his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. “My Da said I should bring this to you.”

  Westley accepted the paper. How had a response from Ella come back so soon? He glanced up and saw the boy still lingering, and remembered what the little fellow waited for. He fished a nickel out of his pocket and tossed it to the boy. “Thank you, young master.”

  The boy grinned and shoved the coin in his trouser pocket. “You need anything else, mister, you let me know.”

  Westley chuckled as the youngster ducked into the gathering dinner crowd and slipped out the door. Westley leaned back and opened the folded paper.

  Colonel Larson for Major Remington. Westley’s eyes widened as he read the lines, and then he crumpled the paper in his hand and threw it down on the table.

  Ella dressed Lee in a cotton gown and placed him in a light shawl she then tied around behind her back. Today would be a good day for a walk to check her garden, and then after that, perhaps she would try again with the goat’s milk.

  She closed the door to her bedroom and made her way down the stairs. It was still cool enough this morning to take Lee out to see the late garden she had attempted to plant—with a lot of help from Basil—before the day grew too warm for Lee to be out in the sun. Then they would go to Riverbend this afternoon for tea and a visit with the Martin ladies. Such had become her life since she’d wed. She still helped with some of the cooking, but Sibby wouldn’t have her doing much of anything else anymore. Her days were spent gardening, tending Lee, visiting with the neighbors…and aching over Westley.

  She pushed the longing aside and donned a practical straw bonnet, tying the bow under her chin and wondering how he fared at Fort Aubrey. He should be settled in Kansas by now, protecting brave travelers from losing their lives to Indian threats.

  Keep him safe, Father. And, please, help me not to love him.

  Such was her prayer throughout each day, one she whispered each time he took hold in her thoughts. And the man never strayed far from those thoughts.

  She shook her head as though that could dislodge the pain he had caused. He didn’t love her, and she would have to accept that and ignore this dark feeling that hung over her shoulders like a death shroud.

  Lee cooed, and she looked down at him. “Ah, wee one, but you are worth it.”

  He smiled up at her and then sucked on his fist. A shame she couldn’t get the goat’s milk into that fist, else she might have a chance at getting him to take it. “You are a stubborn lad, you know it?”

  Ella opened the front door and stepped outside, only to come stumbling to a halt. At least a dozen men dressed in Federal uniforms dismounted and tied their horses in her front lawn. How had she not heard them approach? Ella clutched Lee against her chest, her heart beginning to hammer.

  She remained frozen as she watched them speak to one another, and then a man separated himself from the group and stalked toward her, his gait determined and his face stoic.

  The gleam of the sun caused dapple
d shadows to fall across his stern face as he passed under the magnolia, and his polished boots clicked smartly down the cobbled front walk as they drew nearer upon her. The breeze pulled bits of her hair and sent them scurrying across her nose, but she could not seem to think to brush them away. All she could do was stare at the man as he climbed the front steps and bowed to her.

  “Are you Mrs. Remington?”

  She glanced behind him at the men who were spreading out over the yard and dispersing around the house. “I am.”

  “I am Colonel Larson. I am afraid that I am going to have to ask you to come with me, madam.”

  Ella stepped back. “My husband has paid all the taxes on the lands. He said that the government was satisfied with the state of affairs at Belmont before he left to return to duty.”

  The officer watched her closely. “This has nothing to do with the taxes, madam.”

  Another soldier came up on the porch and the officer pointed toward the house. He stepped around Ella and threw the front door open.

  She drew a sharp intake of air. “What are you doing?” Ella reached to grab the man’s arm, but he shrugged her off and stalked into the house, leaving the door open. Ella pointed her finger at the colonel. “You cannot enter my house without an invitation.”

  He merely lifted his eyebrows and said nothing. She continued to glare at him, even though he did not seem to be affected by the poisonous look in the least.

  Finally, he relented. “Mrs. Remington, we have come to arrest a Negro woman reportedly staying within the main house, and I have the proper documents with which to do so regardless of whether you grant permission or not.”

  “You mean Sibby?” Ella frowned. “Whatever for? She is a freedwoman. I have not been keeping any slaves.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “We will speak further on it when you come in with me.”

  “I have an infant. I cannot do that.”

  The man glanced down, as though noticing the child for the first time, and shifted uncomfortably. “Are you aware of a group of Negroes living on your lands?”

  Ella cocked her head. “Are you from the Freedman’s Bureau?”

  “I am not.”

  Ella frowned. “I am aware that there is a settlement of some kind. I believe the former slaves gathered there to homestead, but I have never set foot inside of it. My husband mentioned starting to work the lands again but—”

  “But you have seen it?” he interrupted.

  Ella’s pulse quickened. “From a distance. They said I shouldn’t go back there.”

  The man leaned closer. “And tell me, Mrs. Remington, you didn’t find that at all suspicious?”

  “I…well, I suppose I did a little, but….”

  “I need you to come with me.” He began tugging on her arm.

  “Why?” Ella stumbled down the steps after him. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “That is yet to be determined.”

  A scream sliced through the air, and Ella ripped her arm away from the officer. She turned around just as the soldier that had entered the house without permission stalked out, dragging poor Basil by the hair.

  Basil flailed her feet, and the man had to hold her at arm’s length to keep her from kicking him. He wrenched hard on her head, making her stumble and fall to her knees.

  Furious, Ella snatched up her skirts and stomped toward the devilish Yank. “I demand that you unhand her this instant!”

  The man glanced behind her at his commanding officer, but held Basil in place. Basil saw Ella and her wails turned to sobs.

  Ella whirled around and screamed at the colonel. “Release her at once! She’s just a girl!”

  The officer had the decency to appear slightly apologetic, but still shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Mrs. Remington. She is to be taken in.”

  “By the hair of her head?”

  He shrugged. “It seems she may have put up a fuss about it.”

  Ella opened her mouth, but no words could make it past the constriction in her throat. Insufferable Yank! Did he not see that the poor child was scared out of her wits?

  Movement caught her eye, and Ella shifted to see another soldier come from the side of the house and step up to Colonel Larson. He leaned close and whispered something into his commanding officer’s ear. The man grunted and then turned his attention back to Ella.

  “I must insist you come with me, please.”

  Ella set her feet and squared her shoulders. “I’ll not do a single thing until you release that child.”

  The colonel’s nostrils flared, but he waved his hand at the soldier on the porch. The other man released Basil’s hair and snatched her by the arm. Ella watched in horror as he hauled her to her feet and dragged her down the steps.

  “Miss Ella! I’s so sorry, Miss Ella,” Basil cried as he hauled her toward the horses.

  Ella scrambled to step in front of them in an effort to stop the soldier from hauling Basil away. “Please, tell me, why are you taking this child?” The man stared down at her, clearly uncomfortable.

  “Orders, ma’am.”

  Tears drained down Basil’s face. “I’s sorry, Miss Ella. I’s so sorry.”

  Ella’s voice began to strain. “I demand to know what is happening!”

  “Orders, ma’am,” he repeated.

  The soldier tugged on Basil again and attempted to step around Ella.

  “I’s sorry,” Basil wailed. “I’s so sorry we done got you into trouble, Miss Ella.”

  Ella’s chest tightened. “What did you do, Basil?”

  The soldier grunted and pushed Basil out in front of him, making Ella step out of the way.

  “What did you do?” Ella called as the soldier pulled Basil away, but she didn’t attempt to answer.

  Basil sobbed as the man lifted her onto a horse and bound her hands to the pommel. Ella spun around to find Larson again. His back was to her, his head bent low as he conversed with another soldier.

  Suddenly, he lifted his head and he stalked back toward the porch. Ella lifted her gaze to see Sibby step out the front door, her headscarf askew and her eyes wild. She took a small step forward, still favoring her ankle a bit.

  Heat bubbled in Ella’s gut and she clenched her teeth. This was Sibby’s doing. Whatever she had been keeping secret had landed them in some kind of predicament. She tightened her arm on Lee and jogged back to the porch.

  “Sibby! Why are these men here?”

  Sibby seamed her lips and looked at her feet.

  “Sibby!”

  Larson came to stand beside her, clasping his hands behind his back. The other soldier took Sibby’s arm and gently helped her down the stairs, leading her toward where they held Basil.

  “Sibby! You tell me what you did this instant!”

  The other woman looked at her with remorse in her eyes, but only lowered her head as the soldier led her away.

  “What will you do with her?” Ella asked the colonel.

  The officer frowned. “They will all be questioned.”

  Ella’s mouth went dry. All?

  “And then justice will be rendered thereafter.”

  Ella toyed with the brooch at her throat, her mind scrambling for footing on a slippery slope of rapidly worsening events. “Sir, that woman is a wet nurse for my son. I cannot be separated from her or else my child will starve.”

  The muscles in his jaw hardened, and he looked at her through narrowed eyes.

  Her heartbeat quickened. “Please, sir. I don’t know what she could have possibly gotten tangled in, but regardless of what she has done, my son will not take the goat’s milk.”

  He blinked at her. “Pardon? Goat’s milk?”

  “I have tried to get him to take goat’s milk so that I may have another means of feeding him, but he refuses. That woman, Sibby, who you are taking, she is my only way of feeding my son. Please, I beg of you to leave her with me.”

  The officer took her elbow. “I’m afraid that is not possible. You’re j
ust going to have to come with me.”

  “You cannot expect me to mount a horse with my infant son.” Ella scoffed. “It isn’t possible.”

  “We won’t be going far.”

  Regardless of her protests, Ella was hoisted up on a tall roan horse, and the colonel swung into the saddle behind her.

  “I hope this animal is well tempered, sir, because if it should spook and any injury befalls my son, I promise you that you will meet with personal harm.”

  The man had the audacity to chuckle. “I assure you, Mrs. Remington, this animal will obey my commands. As long as you do not make a fool of yourself, there will be no need for you to worry.”

  Ella huffed and smoothed the shawl around Lee, uncomfortably aware of how closely the officer sat behind her. She stiffened her back in order to keep as much distance as possible between them.

  The group of soldiers and their female captives heeded Larson’s command, and they followed the drive from Belmont out onto the river road. Would he parade them through town like some kind of criminals?

  They’d not gone far on the road when Larson suddenly turned the horse’s head to the left and they stepped out into one of the fields. Ella twisted and spoke over her shoulder.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I am taking you to the Negro camp.”

  Ella wrinkled her nose. “Whatever for?”

  “To see what you know.”

  Ella turned back forward, speaking loud enough for not only him but the men riding just behind them to hear her as well. “I know nothing of that place. They were determined that I never go there, and I left them to their privacy.”

  The officer declined to reply to her statement, and they clopped through the abandoned fields, skirting around the scraggly line of trees and avoiding the need to jump the creek by keeping near the river road.

  After a time, the settlement came into view. Ella bit her lip. What could a group of recently freed slaves have possibly have done to garner the attention of the army?

  Everything looked quiet. No one milled about in the gardens, and the place seemed deserted. The people must have heard them coming and fled. She wouldn’t be surprised in the least if the soldiers didn’t find a soul.