In His Eyes: A Civil War Romance

by Stephenia H. McGee

  Ella planted her feet, making Westley come to a stop just outside the vault room door. “I cannot be separated from Sibby. Lee won’t drink the goat’s milk.”

  Westley stiffened and looked down at her. Then he softened. “I will need to arrange for Sibby’s immediate release as well,” he said, still staring at her even as he spoke to the other man.

  “Do you think that is going to happen after you attacked one of my men?”

  Westley growled and tugged Ella out into what was once the main part of the bank, where the blessed sunshine devoured the shadows. “If he had answered my questions, it wouldn’t have come to that.”

  Larson followed them farther into the lobby and then stopped and straightened his jacket. “Major, I can understand your position, but I’m afraid we can’t release the Negro woman just yet.”

  Westley’s jaw clenched, the little muscles under his skin jumping. “I really must insist.”

  The colonel spread his feet and clasped his hands behind him. “Tell me what you know of the smuggling operation.”

  He glared at the man who outranked him, clearly unconcerned that he continued to trample military protocols. “I know nothing of it.”

  Ella pressed up against Westley’s side and watched the other officer narrow his eyes.

  “You are certain?”

  “Of course I am certain,” Westley snapped. “Do you really think I would allow such a thing to go on if I had any knowledge of it?”

  “Your father did.”

  Westley stiffened, and Ella could feel the tension rolling off of him like thick fog. “What are you saying?”

  “Do you really think that a group of Negroes would have concocted and run such an elaborate smuggling operation on their own?”

  Ella’s heart hammered.

  “Of course they wouldn’t,” Colonel Larson said, not waiting for a reply. “The operation was organized and run by your father, using the coloreds either to trade or to steal supplies from Memphis and move them back south. Then they would distribute the goods and make a nice profit.”

  Ella stepped forward. “But why would they agree to such a thing? Wouldn’t they be the ones taking all the risks?”

  The colonel flicked his gaze over to her. “It was a perfect plan. The men in charge could use expendable people who would mostly go unnoticed in the flood of escaping slaves, and the coloreds took the risk for the benefits it provided. You saw the settlement, Mrs. Remington. You can attest that they lived quite well.”

  Ella chewed her lip. It explained a lot. The condition of the settlement, the supplies Sibby always had, and even, perhaps, why Belmont had truly maintained its possessions.

  “This is all speculation.” Westley growled. “Have you any proof my father was involved?”

  “It would seem that your father created an alliance with certain officers stationed in Memphis to trade what was left of his cotton. Those men sold it at a premium, and then began trading other things as well.”

  “And yet you still lack proof,” Westley scoffed. “And what officers are you referring to? Federal men, no doubt.”

  Larson’s face darkened. “I assure you, Major, we are looking into that. All the men responsible will receive due justice.”

  “I will expect to see items of proof rather than mere conjecture.”

  The two men glared at one another, and Ella began to fear they might resort to fists. But then Westley seemed to gather himself and gestured to the vault area where Sibby remained, even though they had not locked her back inside. “Regardless of any involvement you claim my father may have had, my parents died months ago. Just because my mother’s maid might have known about what they did, she certainly couldn’t have had any part of it.”

  Larson shook his head. “Strange as it may seem, we have concluded that after your father’s death, that Negro maid sent correspondence pretending to be him and kept the operation going. She was in charge.”

  “Impossible,” Westley said on a long breath.

  “I thought the same.” He spread his hands, some of his anger appearing to be replaced with confusion. “Who would have ever thought a Negro house slave capable of such things?”

  Westley merely stared at Larson. Ella frowned, putting the pieces together. She knew that Westley’s mother had made sure Sibby was educated. She could do sums and letters, and Ella could attest to the fact that Sibby could be cunning. And Sibby cared deeply for her people and her home. The men may think that a woman, especially one of color, was incapable of doing such things, but Ella knew otherwise.

  Larson cleared his throat. “After searching the house and settlements and questioning the Negress, I have concluded that it is true. We were all as shocked as you are.”

  Westley looked down at Ella. “What will happen to her?”

  Fear stirred in her chest and she looked back at the colonel, letting all her anxieties and pleading show in her eyes.

  The man narrowed his gaze and stroked his chin, then a sly smile came over his lips. “Well, seeing as how the operation is shut down, and the war over….” He lifted his shoulders and turned meaningful eyes on Westley. “Perhaps we can work something out?”

  Two hours later, Westley signed several documents as Ella and Sibby sat in the lobby of the old bank. Ella wasn’t entirely sure what all the documents entailed, only that after a heated argument, Larson agreed for Westley to take responsibility for Sibby and Basil, who would both be released into his watchful care, while all the others would be taken to trial. And somehow a very detailed agreement on cotton production seemed to be at the center of it all. Westley agreed to get the plantation running again using freedmen labor and then the majority of the cotton would be sent to the United States government for five years as a way of repaying the damages done. Ella had no idea what would happen to the Yankee officers at the other end of the smuggling line in Memphis, and, frankly, she didn’t care.

  Westley finished the paperwork with Larson, and led Sibby and Ella, Lee still sleeping in her arms, out into a bright afternoon. Ella shivered, relieved that she would not have to spend another night in that cell.

  She glanced over at Sibby, but the woman kept her focus on the dust underneath her feet. There would be a lot of questions for her in the days to come. But right now, they just wanted to go home. She looked up to see Westley staring at her, the look in his eyes sending sparks of lightning down to her toes.

  “How did you know?”

  “When I arrived in St. Joseph, I sent a telegram to the colonel asking him to send you a message. He promptly sent word back to me that an operation had been discovered at Belmont and that they were gathering information to make arrests. He said he would send word to me in Fort Aubrey once they had everything figured out a few days from then, but I came straight home. It is a good thing I did, or you may have been in that cell a lot longer.”

  Ella blinked up at him. “But isn’t that against your orders? Won’t you be in trouble for doing something like that?”

  He reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I will gladly serve my time for it. Leaving my post was worth it to know that you are safe.”

  Ella stepped closer, not caring that they were in the middle of the street. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Oh, heavens,” Sibby grumbled. “Give me that child before the two of you done squeeze the life outta him.”

  Ella blinked and remembered that she held the baby between her and Westley. She passed Lee to her. Sibby smiled down at the boy. “Best you and me goes and finds us a spot in the shade while you mama and daddy finish they talk.”

  Ella’s eyes widened. Sibby shouldn’t have said….

  Westley chuckled. “She’s right. They should sit in the shade.”

  He stared at her, something intense in his eyes that made her feel a bit unsteady. Westley grabbed her hand and drew her into the narrow strip between two partially crumbling buildings. He glanced around, and seeing they were alone, pulled her up against him.


  Ella tilted her head back and stared up at him, her mouth too dry and her throat too tight for anything more.

  “Ella, I must beg your forgiveness for the way I left you. I was afraid I could not love you in the way you deserved. I thought I would never be enough.”

  She reached up and touched his cheek. “I love you for who you are.” She gave him a sly smile. “Flaws, temper, and all. Even if you are an insufferable Yank.”

  He laughed and pulled her closer, leaving not even a hair’s breadth between them. “My little dragon. Will we ever tame the fire on your tongue?”

  Ella giggled. “Probably not.”

  He grew serious and looked deeply into her eyes, his face only inches from hers. “Good. Because I love you just as you are. Fiery tongue and all.”

  Her heart pounded. He loved her. And though his love would never be meant to fill every place in her, it sent currents of joy through her. She would have someone to love and be loved in return for the remaining days of their lives.

  “The message I sent in St. Joseph was to let you know that after my time out west, I was going to muster out and then come home to Belmont, where I wanted to learn to be your husband in truth.”

  “You were?”

  “Yes.” He ran his thumb down the curve of her jaw. “Now it seems I will have to face a court marshal and the consequences of taking absence without leave, but when that is finished, I would like to come home to you.” He ran the pad of his thumb over her lips. “That is, if you would let me.”

  “Oh, Westley,” Ella said on a sigh. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

  The warm air swirled around them, and he lowered his lips to hers. Ella fell into him, breathless. She slid her hands up his back, caught up in the expression of love that so filled two hearts that it had no choice but to flow through their lips.

  Westley held her tightly, and her heart soared. He would be her husband in truth, and she would be his wife. Ella pushed up on her toes and deepened the kiss, allowing her fingers to splay through his hair. He breathed hard and pulled away from her.

  “I love you, Mrs. Remington.”

  “And I you.”

  Then he pulled her into his arms once more. And as he led her away toward home, Ella thought that somewhere in the place beyond them, she could hear a sweet symphony of beauty and light playing the song of love.

  Belmont Plantation

  Spring, 1871

  Ella dipped her paintbrush and made the final stroke. She’d spent months trying to capture everything just right. The birds sang their delight over a perfect day, and Ella set down her paints and leaned back to examine her work. Not exact, but it would do.

  A happy little squeal added to the bird’s choir. Ella smiled and leaned over to look into the cradle. “Well, hello, little lass. Awake from our nap, are we?”

  Her seven month old daughter cooed, her toothless grin infectious. Ella laughed and pulled off her painting apron before lifting the child from the cradle and setting her on her hip. The front door banged open and Basil scurried out.

  “Now where did he go?”

  Ella cocked her eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’ve lost Lee again.”

  Basil put her hands on her hips. “You know he think it funny to slip out of them lessons and run off.”

  Sibby came outside, hauling Lee by one ear. “Here he be. I done found him in my kitchen trying to sneak off with one of my turnovers.”

  The little boy poked out his lip, his dark eyes part mischief, part pleading. “But Mama, I was hungry, and I already finished my lessons.”

  Sibby let go of his ear and crossed her arms. “Then why didn’t you just ask me for one of dem tarts, little man?” She ruffled his dark hair. “You knows I woulda give you one.”

  His lips turned up. “I know. But I wanted to see if I could get it without you seeing me. I’m going to be a soldier like my daddy, and a good soldier has to be able to sneak up on folks without them seeing.”

  Westley stepped up on to the front porch, the hitch in his gait still evident after all these years, but it did not pain him anymore. He pulled his hat from his head and tucked it under the arm of his cream-colored linen suit. My, but the man was handsome. His gaze slid up to her and he smiled. Even after six years of blissful union, that smile still sent shivers all the way down to her toes.

  Westley turned his attention on their son. “What’s this I hear about sneaking up on people?”

  Lee bounded over to Westley and grinned. “I was telling Sibby that I was sneaking like a soldier is supposed to do.”

  “Oh?” Westley tapped his chin in thought. “What happened to being a banker?”

  He lifted his little shoulders. “That was last week. This week I want to be a soldier like you.”

  Westley smiled. “I’m not a soldier anymore.” He looked up at Ella and winked. “I like being home with your mama too much.”

  Lee furrowed his brow. “Why you looking at each other so funny?”

  Westley chuckled. “Go on and get yourself a treat, boy, and then go up to your room and do an extra lesson for giving poor Basil so much trouble.”

  Lee pouted and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yes, sir.” He trudged back inside, but a moment later poked his head back out. “But when I finish can we go fishing?”

  Westley laughed. “Only if you do all of your letters correctly.”

  Lee gave his father a serious look and made a salute. “Yes, sir!” Then he dashed back into the house, leaving Sibby and Basil to scramble after him.

  Westley wrapped his arm around Ella’s shoulder and looked down at the baby. “I think Ailsa’s hair gets to be more like yours every day.”

  Ella smiled. “She still has your eyes, though.”

  Westley chuckled. “They might be shaped like mine, but where she got that stormy blue, God only knows.”

  Ella smiled and pressed into Westley’s side. “Come, I have finished my painting.”

  Westley followed her to the canvas. “You are finally going to let me see it?”

  She laughed. “It is finally finished.”

  Together they stood in front of the painting that would soon hang in their parlor, always to remind them of who they were and whose they were. The colors were not bright enough, but no paint on earth could emulate such beauty. She’d captured the way the grass swayed in the wind, and a majestic tree pointed its spires to the sky. Star-like leaves shone in the bright light, tinged with tiny bits of gold.

  “It is beautiful, Ella.”

  She smiled and snuggled against him. It was beautiful. Peace flowed through her. Someday she would see that place again. Someday the tiny glimpses she’d been blessed with would be permanent.

  And when that time came, she would dance with him again.

  Dear Reader,

  I hope you enjoyed Ella and Westley’s story. I’d love for you to take a few moments and leave a review online. It means the world to an author to get feedback from readers, and having readers share about my books helps me keep putting stories out.

  If you would like to really step into the story, be sure to visit Belmont Plantation in Greenville, Mississippi. It’s a beautiful place to step back in time and relax. And if you stop by, be sure to send me a picture! I’d love to see you in “Ella’s” home.

  Happy Reading!

  Stephenia

  1. Ella feels like she doesn’t have many options in life and her society, and therefore she often tries to make her own solutions. Do you think that women today have the same issues? How do you think things have changed?

  2. Westley struggles with his physical wounds as well as the ones in his soul. Have you or a loved one had a physical injury that affected personal perception? Westley feels his limp makes him less of a man. Do you think people with physical conditions feel the same? Why or why not?

  3. Ella struggles with feeling worthless. Why do you think that is? Have you ever had circumstances or something in your past that made you feel that way? How do yo
u think we can overcome or correct this feeling?

  4. Ella learns that she has forgotten who she really is. Do you think that Christians can sometimes forget who they are in Christ? Do you think that aligning our identity with Him changes the way we see ourselves?

  5. Ella has dreams where she goes to a special place of beauty and light. Do you think that God still speaks to His children in similar ways? Have you ever had an experience or dream that made you feel closer to Him?

  6. Westley and Ella learn that they cannot love each other the way they want to until they understand Who to love first. Do you think that as people grow closer to God they grow closer to one another? How does putting God first affect our relationships with those around us?

  7. It’s your turn. Where do you see Ella and Westley’s story going from here? What challenges do you think they will face in the future, and what joys might they discover together?

  The Hillman farm was used as a hospital after the battle at Sayler’s (sometimes written as Sailor’s) creek, and Union officers were kept in the bedrooms. It stands to reason that General Sheridan’s men would have been kept there, and perhaps someone would have taken pity on Major Remington. The character of Mrs. Preston is not based on any actual people associated with the Hillman farm.

  The town of Parsonville and the Inn where Ella works are fictional. However, Greenville, Mississippi is located just out from Belmont Plantation and did suffer destruction during the war. The use of a bank as a makeshift offices and jail cell are elements of my own imagination.

  According to my research, there were Union officers in Memphis that traded cotton and other items with smugglers who then took those items down into Mississippi. I found no evidence of a smuggling ring similar to the one I used in the book, but something similar could have been a possibility.

  The real Belmont Plantation was built in 1857 by the Worthington family. It was purchased in 1853 by Samuel Worthington and two years later he sold it to his brother, Dr. William W. Worthington. Belmont has been restored and now functions as a bed and breakfast and is one of the few antebellum homes remaining on the Mississippi River. If you ever get the opportunity to visit the Mississippi Delta, you simply must stop by Belmont for a heaping dose of Southern hospitality.