Divided Nation, United Hearts

by Yolanda Wallace

  “Don’t make me put you over my knee and spank you, Abram Summers. I did it when you were younger, and I can still do it now. My lap is a bit more padded than it used to be, but the effect is still the same.”

  Enid ruffled Abram’s hair before he danced out of reach. Clara enjoyed the moment of levity. Laughter had been in short supply for far too long. It was good to see everyone smiling again. Even over something as serious as target practice.

  “How did we do?” she asked as she began to rake the pieces of shattered glass into a pile.

  “You didn’t do so bad, considering it was your first time holding a gun,” Abram said diplomatically.

  “But?”

  “I wouldn’t go around calling myself a sharpshooter if I was you. Not just yet, anyway. Let me give you a few more lessons first.”

  Clara used a shovel to drop the shards of glass into the trash bin. Now the only reminder of their shooting lesson was the sharp smell of gun smoke in the air.

  “We can’t all be as good as you and Davy Crockett.”

  “Is it safe to come out?” Moses asked, poking his head out the barn door.

  “As safe as it’s going to get. Hang these up for me, Percy.” Clara handed Percy the shovel and rake and offered Moses her arm. “Did you and Wil have a good visit?”

  She peeked into the barn before Percy slammed the door shut, but she didn’t see Wil, who must have already returned to her hiding place.

  “Our conversation was most illuminating. He’s a good man.”

  “I’m glad you think so.”

  Moses tugged on her arm to get her to stop walking. Percy ran ahead to join Abram, Enid, and Mary at the well.

  “He may be a good man, but are you sure he’s the right man for you?” Moses asked after Percy was out of earshot. “There are things you don’t know about him.”

  “You sound like Enid. Trust me, Moses. I know everything I need to know about Wil.”

  “Then do you know he’s…not like most men?”

  Clara’s blood ran cold. Was Moses saying what she thought he was saying? Did he know the truth about Wil? Would he keep her secret and accept her for who she was, or would he turn his back on her? On both of them?

  “Yes, Moses, I do.”

  “And you love him anyway.”

  The words sounded more like a statement than a question. Like Moses needed to hear them said to convince himself that they were true. Clara watched realization wash over his face and slowly sink into his body. He staggered backward as if he had received a mighty blow, then he planted his feet and turned toward her.

  She expected him to be reproachful. Judgmental. Clara wasn’t in the mood for either. But when Moses spoke, his voice was filled with tenderness, not contempt.

  “Who else knows?” he asked. “I know Mama doesn’t, or your ears would still be ringing. Mine, too, for that matter. Do Abram and Percy suspect?”

  “No, they have no idea, and I don’t have the heart to tell them. Wil’s the best man they’ve ever known. How do I tell them she isn’t one? They’ve already lost Mama and Papa. I can’t take Wil from them, too.”

  “So no one else knows?”

  “Aside from me and Wil, the only ones who know her true sex are you and two of Wil’s friends from Philadelphia, though one can no longer be considered a friend. I know this is difficult for you to hear, Moses, but Wil makes me happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Nothing more and nothing less. She trusted her heart to someone in the past and she ended up getting betrayed. Please tell me you won’t do the same. I don’t care what you say about me, but—”

  “I’m going to tell you a story.”

  Moses’s voice was so quiet Clara was almost afraid to hear what he had to say.

  “When I was in the army, I made friends with a man named Lawrence Thibodeaux. Lawrence was from Louisiana. A true Cajun, through and through. The men in the unit called him Two Times, because his accent was so thick he had to say everything twice before we could understand him. He was bigger than an oak tree, and he could lick any man dumb enough to stand in front of him. You wanted him on your side in a fight because you knew there was no way you could lose with him in your corner.”

  Clara waited for Moses to get to the point of his slow-spun yarn.

  “Lawrence always carried a letter with him. It had been folded and unfolded so many times, the paper was starting to fall apart. He used to read it whenever he started pining for home. For most of us, that meant every other day or so. We teased him all the time about that letter, but he wouldn’t tell anyone what was in it or who wrote it. He just said it was from his ‘special friend’ back home.”

  Clara thought of the letter Wil carried. The one Libby had written to tell her she had decided their friendship must come to an end. The man in Moses’s story had obviously sought comfort from his letter. Wil, in contrast, had found only heartache.

  “He was my tentmate,” Moses said, “so I got it in my head one night that I was going to steal the letter from him while he was sleeping and read it to the rest of the boys while we were sitting around the campfire the next morning.”

  “Did you?”

  “Yes,” Moses said sadly, “but I wish I hadn’t.”

  “What happened?”

  “Lawrence’s face turned three shades of red when I pulled out the letter and read the first line. I had never seen him so mad. Turns out he was more embarrassed than angry. He tried his best to get to me, but four men grabbed him, held him back, and egged me to go on. He fought them as hard as he could, but he couldn’t throw them off. So I kept reading. It was a love letter, sure enough. Filled with sentiments not meant to be shared with an audience. I’ll be honest. I got a little envious reading those words. So did the men hearing them. We all wanted someone to be writing them to us instead of someone else. But when I got to the end of the letter, the name written at the bottom of the page was a man’s instead of a woman’s. All the loud talk dried up like a riverbed during a drought. You could have heard a pin drop after that. The men in our regiment never looked at Lawrence the same way again after that, and he was killed by a Union scout before I could work up the nerve to apologize for what I did and let him know it didn’t matter one whit to me who he loved as long as that person made him happy. I didn’t get the chance to tell him that, so I’m going to make sure I take the time to tell you. Wil’s secret is safe with me, Clara. And so is yours.”

  Clara couldn’t think of a way to express her immense gratitude, so she wrapped her arms around Moses’s neck, hugged him tight, and said the only words that came to mind.

  “Thank you.”

  *

  Wilhelmina waited anxiously for Clara and Moses to finish their whispered conversation. She couldn’t hear what they were saying. It drove her crazy to be left unawares when so much was at stake. What had she done wrong? How had Moses managed to see through her ruse when sighted men had looked right past her?

  She had tried to tell him he was mistaken, but he hadn’t believed her.

  “Your voice is a close approximation of the real thing,” he had said. “And the palms of your hands are callused enough to pass muster, but I’ve never felt such soft skin on a man. Even one who’s never worked a day in his life. Surely Clara would have noticed something like that when she—”

  His face had grown ashen. Her heart had sunk as she watched him put the pieces of the puzzle together in his mind.

  “She had to undress you so she could tend to your wound. She had to see you for who you really were. Yet she still continues to harbor you. To claim she cares for you. Are her feelings for you real, or all part of an act?”

  Wilhelmina had thought of the tender moments she and Clara had shared. Of the promises they had made. They had certainly felt real to her. She had wanted to tell Moses how much she loved Clara and how much Clara seemed to love her, but the choice wasn’t hers to make.

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to ask her.”

  And that’s exactly what Mose
s had set out to do. She had watched helplessly as Moses had drawn Clara away from the others. She had watched as Clara’s eyes searched his face. Then she had seen what she hadn’t hoped to see. Fear. Not of an enemy bearing down with a gun in his hand. Fear of discovery.

  Would Clara deny everything they had meant to each other—everything they could still be—in order to keep her own secrets safe?

  Wilhelmina didn’t want to consider the possibility. How could she get this close to everything she had ever wanted, only to watch it slip away?

  Then the unimaginable happened.

  Clara smiled.

  Not just any ordinary smile. A bright, shining smile that lit up not just her face but the whole sky.

  “Thank you,” Clara said, hugging Moses to her. “Thank you.”

  Clara led Moses to the well, where everyone was taking turns drinking their fill from a ladle filled with cool water. Then she began to walk back toward the barn. Wilhelmina wanted to meet her halfway, but forced herself to remain in her hiding place.

  “Moses knows,” Clara said after she closed the barn door behind her. “He knows the truth about you—about us—and he doesn’t care. He promised to guard our secret as closely as if it were his own.”

  Wilhelmina climbed down the ladder and opened her arms wide as Clara launched herself into them.

  How could this be? How could these poor, simple farm folk accept her without reservation when her friends and family members—blessed with all of life’s advantages—had refused to do the same?

  It wasn’t what you owned that made you rich, she realized. It was who you were inside. In that respect, the Summerses and the Braggs were wealthy beyond measure.

  Wilhelmina’s tears mingled with Clara’s as they kissed.

  “I have chores to finish,” Clara said, pulling away, “but I’ll come back tonight when we can be alone.”

  “Hurry.”

  Wilhelmina was already counting the minutes. Though she and Clara had much to celebrate this day, their time together was quickly running out.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Clara couldn’t believe her good fortune. She had been so worried about how people would react if they found out she had fallen in love with a woman. How could they possibly understand, she had asked herself, when even she was still coming to terms with the idea?

  But the truth couldn’t be denied. She was in love with Wilhelmina Fredericks. She wanted to spend the rest of her days with her. Make a life with her. Grow old with her.

  She hadn’t expected anyone except Wil to share her joy. Then Moses had surprised her by giving her his blessing. Did she think everyone else in town would feel the same way if given a chance to express their opinions on the matter? Of course not, but at least she and Wil had one person on their side. One was better than none at all.

  Her heart was so light she felt like bursting into song. She refrained somehow and concentrated on the fried chicken and mashed potatoes she was making so she wouldn’t torment herself with visions of what was to follow after supper. Sneaking out to the barn after the boys went to bed so she could be with Wil in that way again. Would they always have to sneak around in order to be together? Or could Wil’s crazy scheme of getting married actually come to pass?

  Clara smiled when she pictured the two of them standing before the justice of the peace and saying, “I do.” Her smile faded, however, when she pictured Wil saying good-bye. Because Wil was determined to return to the fight. And by this time tomorrow, she might already be gone.

  A knock on the door drew Clara from her reverie. The knock was firm, but not as forceful as Jedediah’s. When he banged on the door, it sounded like he was trying to knock it down with his bare hands. Enid never bothered knocking. She used to barge right in. Lately, though, she had taken to announcing her presence so she wouldn’t be mistaken for a marauding Yankee.

  This visitor, Clara could tell, was somebody new.

  “See who it is, Abram. This chicken is bound to burn if I take my eye off it too long.”

  Abram drew the curtain aside and peeked out the front window. He jumped back and started waving his hand frantically at Percy. “Bring me the rifle. There’s a Yankee standing on our porch.”

  Percy stood on a chair and took the rifle down from its perch above the mantle.

  “That window ain’t been cleaned in a while,” Clara said, taking the chicken off the heat. “Are you sure it isn’t Wil?”

  “I’m positive. Wil’s a young man. This one’s older than dirt.”

  Abram checked to make sure the rifle was loaded, then raised it to his shoulder and threw the door open.

  “Careful where you point that thing, son,” the soldier on the porch said, raising his hands. “It might go off when you least expect it.”

  “I know how to handle a gun, mister,” Abram said. “My rifle only goes off when I want it to, and I only hit what I’m aiming at. Right now, I’m aiming at you.”

  “So I see.”

  Clara joined them in the doorway.

  “How can we help you, mister?”

  The man took off his cap and slowly lowered his hands.

  “I don’t mean to disturb you, ma’am, but I’m looking for a friend of mine who went missing after the battle yesterday. His name’s Wil Fredericks, and I think he might have wandered onto your farm a few days ago looking for provisions. This place looks exactly as he described it, and if you don’t mind my saying, so do you.”

  Clara looked around, but the man appeared to have come alone. Was he really a friend of Wil’s like he said, or was he someone else entirely? Perhaps someone in charge of rounding up deserters and taking them in to be shot.

  “What are you looking for him for?”

  “I don’t know if he’s dead or alive, and it would do my heart good to know one way or the other. Have you seen him in the last few days? Has he been back by this way?”

  The man wrung his hat in his hands. He looked more like a worried father than a hardened killer. Clara thought she might be able to trust him, but she needed to know for sure.

  “What’s your name, mister?”

  “Weekley. Erwin Weekley. Wil and I serve together in the Seventy-seventh Pennsylvania. I have his things here if you don’t believe me.”

  He held up a dusty haversack. When Clara peered inside, she spied a Bible, several sheets of writing paper, and assorted underthings. When she straightened, the man’s name finally registered with her.

  “Your name’s Weekley, you said?” she asked, motioning for Abram to lower his gun.

  “Yes. Do you know me?”

  “Not personally, but I do know of you. You’re the one our brother Solomon is looking for. He holds you partly responsible for Papa’s death. If he finds you, he aims to kill you. You and Wil both.”

  “So you have seen Wil. Where is he? Is he all right?”

  “If you head to the barn over yonder, Mr. Weekley, you can ask him yourself.”

  *

  Wilhelmina couldn’t believe her eyes. She rushed to shake Erwin’s hand.

  “It is you. I saw you dart out of the woods and head toward the house, but I thought my mind was playing tricks on me after being cooped up for so long.”

  “It is so good to see you, son. When you didn’t return to camp, Billy and I thought you had perished.”

  Erwin clapped her on the shoulder as if he were greeting a long-lost friend.

  “From the looks of things,” he said after she staggered from the blow, “you nearly did. Have a seat, son, and tell me what happened.”

  She rubbed her shoulder, trying in vain to lessen the throbbing ache Erwin’s enthusiastic greeting had caused. Giving up on the lost cause, she sat on a hay bale and told him everything that had happened since they were separated on the second day of the pitched battle in and around Pittsburg Landing.

  “That’s some story,” Erwin said when she was done.

  “I was planning on coming back tomorrow, but now that you’re here, I might as we
ll leave tonight. You can help me convince Doc Gibson I’m fit to fight. I doubt he’ll take my word for it, but he’s apt to be more agreeable if I have you to vouch for me.”

  Erwin looked at Clara’s, Abram’s, and Percy’s forlorn faces.

  “No need to rush, son. Tomorrow is as good a time as any. It will give you a chance to say your good-byes first.”

  One night wasn’t nearly long enough to tell Clara all the things she needed to say, but it would have to do.

  “I’ll come back for you first thing in the morning,” Erwin said. “In the meantime, was that fried chicken I smelled back at the house?”

  “Would you like to join us for dinner, Mr. Weekley?” Clara asked.

  “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

  “Nonsense. Any friend of Wil’s is a friend of ours. I’ll let you two talk. I’ll send Percy to fetch you when everything’s ready. Come on, boys. Let’s leave them to it.”

  “Thank you kindly, ma’am.” He turned to Wilhelmina after Clara, Percy, and Abram returned to the house. “She is as pretty as a picture, Wil.”

  “I think so, too,” Wilhelmina said proudly. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m not going back to Philadelphia once the war is over. I’m going to come back here when all is said and done.”

  “This is a particularly lovely part of the country, even if both sides are doing their dead level best to blow it to kingdom come. What will you do once you’ve fulfilled your duty? Try your hand at farming?”

  “I thought I might. I may need Clara and the boys to teach me a few things, but I’ve always been a pretty good study. I’ll let you in on a little secret, Mr. Weekley.”

  She leaned forward, slightly nervous as she prepared to share her news with him. She wanted his approval—desperately so—but she didn’t know if she would receive it.

  “I’ve asked Clara for her hand and she’s said yes.”

  Erwin looked momentarily surprised.

  “I guess that means congratulations are in order. You certainly move fast once you set your mind to it, don’t you, son? I can certainly vouch for that. I asked my wife to marry me before the end of our first date. She exhibited enough patience to wait for a few more outings took place before she said yes, but I like to think she made up her mind that first night.”