by Mary Ellis
“The rations I ate last night weren’t fit for a hog.” The officer’s mood soured another notch.
The skinny private poked Nate’s coat with the bayonet. “You pull that coat off a dead man? Look at them bullet holes.” He poked the tip of his bayonet far enough through the hole to tear his shirt.
Nate mustered an imperious tone he hoped would drown out the sound of his knocking knees. “I insist you take me to Lt. Joshua Cooper of General Hoke’s Division. My brother will verify I’m telling the truth.”
After a moment’s pause, the sergeant stuck the pistol that had been aimed at Nate’s chest into his belt. “That’s what we’ll do. There will be plenty of time for bayonet and target practice if you’re not telling the truth, Nathaniel Cooper.”
Within twenty minutes, Nate got his first look at Fort Fisher. It was not at all what he’d expected. He’d heard his father talk of seeing Fort Sumter once, sitting tall and impressive in the Charleston harbor. Instead of sturdy brick and stone, Fort Fisher was a long series of earthen mounds, like a native burial ground in the desert. At least an imposing palisade of sharpened timbers surrounded the land and sea faces on the narrow peninsula of land. This was the fortress that had effectively guarded the entrance of the Cape Fear River, the only water approach to Wilmington? It was hard to imagine it provided any protection for the blockade runners headed for Nassau, Bermuda, or England.
When the gate of the palisade swung wide, the skinny private prodded Nate inside. At least he used the butt end of his gun instead of the razor-sharp blade. As they crossed the open parade ground, few soldiers gave him more than a cursory glance. Most likely they assumed he was just another deserter, caught and dragged back to be either locked in the brig or shot. Not many men would wait this long to answer the call to serve the Glorious Cause—which didn’t seem very glorious, judging by the atmosphere inside the fort.
Once they reached a low-slung building against the western wall, the pistol-packing sergeant barked orders over his shoulder. “You wait here, Cooper, while I ask ’bout your brother among General Hoke’s officers. Don’t know all them boys yet.” To his emaciated companion, he said, “Don’t let him out of your sight. No telling what he’s got in mind. Shoot him in the back if he tries to run.”
“It would be my pleasure.” The private flashed Nate a malicious grin.
For several hours Nate remained crouched on his haunches, cramped, hungry, and utterly exhausted. His plea for a drink of water had been ignored. He’d been stripped of his canteen, bag of food from Ruth, and his knapsack. Thank goodness he had given Amanda his money, the deed to his land and store, and every memento he possessed from home. Even his Bible had been confiscated. He would probably never lay eyes on his horse again. Replacement mounts had become rarer than blooming roses in January. Finally, the clatter of hooves awakened him from an uncomfortable doze.
“Nathaniel!” Joshua reined in his horse and swung down only a few feet away.
“This man insists he’s your brother, sir,” the sergeant sneered.
“That’s because he is.” Joshua shot the officer a murderous glare while pulling Nate to his feet. “What have you done here, Sergeant?”
“I ain’t sure if—”
“This man is my responsibility. You are dismissed.”
A shiver ran up Nate’s spine, as much from relief as from the cold settling in his bones. “Right happy to see you, little brother,” Nate spoke in a whisper.
“Let’s warm you up in my quarters. When was the last time you ate?”
“Can’t recall. If you put a thick venison steak in front of me, I won’t turn it down.”
Joshua laughed from the belly. “These aren’t the mountains…no deer here. But I’ll get you something edible.” He guided his brother into a low-ceilinged room with two cots, two chairs, a table fashioned from wood slats, and a coal stove. While Joshua went to the common room, Nate dropped onto one of the beds, his back against the wall.
Before long Joshua carried in a bowl of stew, a plate of corn mush, a canteen of water, and a homespun blanket. “Eat, and then tell me what in tarnation you’re doing here.” He wrapped the blanket snuggly around his older brother.
Nate peered at the bowl of carrots, potatoes, turnips, parsley root, and some unidentifiable meat. Seasoned with onions, peppers, and salt, the thick stew was surprisingly delicious. Or perhaps he’d just never been this hungry before.
Joshua sat on a ladderback chair and patiently watched him eat.
Nate devoured the crumbly cornbread with a spoon, drew in a deep breath, and set the crockery on the floor. “I can’t remember anything tasting so fine. Thank you.”
Joshua bobbed his head. “Now, why have you come?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m here to enlist. Better late than never as Ma used to say.”
“Feeling the way you do about—”
Nate cut him off with an upraised finger, figuring more than a few eavesdroppers lurked nearby. “Hold up there. Everyone should be allowed to change his mind. The Yankees are breathing down the neck of my new hometown. It’s now or never, judging by the number of gunboats I saw out there.”
After a long appraisal, Joshua shrugged. “Good enough reason for me. We can use every man we can get. We don’t even shoot deserters so long as they promise to give it another go.”
“Tell me the news. Have the Yanks stopped shelling and withdrawn?”
Joshua consulted his pocket watch. “I need to return to my troops. We’re on patrol until dark. In the meantime, get some rest. Tomorrow the major will swear you into my company. Then you’ll learn soon enough our situation at the end of the earth.”
His brother’s face looked breathtakingly young, yet Nate was the one who slept that night in naive ignorance of what was to come.
Amanda would have preferred to spend the entire day in bed after the fateful parting in Nate’s abandoned store. Or perhaps until the spring when the Atlantic calmed sufficiently to sail home. But despite his insistence she leave Wilmington, she knew that was out of the question. And it had nothing to do with winter storms or rough seas. How could she leave the man she loved? His profession of affection came as a bittersweet balm after weeks of self-doubt. He loved her, yet he loved his brother as well. And his sense of duty to family might cost him his life.
Thus, when she heard the clatter of shoes across her bedroom floor, she buried her head deeper under the covers. “Please go away, Helene. I intend to remain in bed today.”
Without warning the soft, downy quilt was stripped away. Incensed, Amanda bolted upright and reached for the covers in the chilly room. “Oh, bother!”
“I am your sister, not one of the maids. Of course, you have only one maid left after last night.” Abigail stood at the foot of the bed with her arms crossed over her rounded belly.
“What on earth are you talking about?” Swinging her legs over the side, Amanda picked up her robe from the chair.
“I’ll ask the questions. Where did you go yesterday?” Abigail’s eyes narrowed into slits.
“I walked to town to see Nate. After all, we spent Christmas apart from each other.” Amanda stood and knotted the belt around her waist.
“Did you go there alone, without your maid?’
“I have no need of a maid during a social call. What is this about?”
“Did you and your precious Mr. Cooper conspire to steal my property?”
She rubbed her eyes, desperate for a cup of coffee to clear the fog. “He would never steal from you or anyone else. Despite his modest upbringing, he is an honest man with more integrity than any of Jackson’s wealthy friends.”
Abigail rolled her eyes and began to pace. “Then none of this makes a bit of sense.”
Amanda rang her bedside bell vigorously. “Can’t this wait until after I’ve had my coffee?”
Her question prompted a sly smile from Abigail. “Ring all you want, but I doubt either of your maids will hear it.”
Amanda grabbed
her sister’s arm to stop her pacing. “Instead of talking in riddles, Abby, tell me what happened.”
“Josie is gone, vanished during the night. She took all of her things, so it doesn’t look as though she’s coming back. And, apparently, your sweet Helene has disappeared as well.”
Amanda dropped into a chair. “That can’t be. Where would she go if the steamers aren’t accepting civilian passengers? She knows no one in America except for me.”
“But as you keep saying, Helene is free to quit her job and go wherever she likes. So let’s focus on who helped Josie escape. Jackson paid fifteen hundred dollars for the girl. Will you or Mr. Cooper reimburse him for his loss?”
“I told you, neither Nate nor I helped Josie…on her road to freedom.” Amanda refused to use the word “escape” because slaves ran off regularly these days. “As your guest I would not betray your trust, and Nate has no use for a slave where he’s going.”
“No one in this household would dare to help—”
“Stop badgering her, Mrs. Henthorne. It wasn’t Miss Amanda; it was I.” To the utter shock of both women, Helene stepped from behind the draperies where she had hidden since Abigail’s arrival.
“What in tarnation?”
“Why are you hiding back there?”
The two questions simultaneously echoed off the ceiling.
Helene looked from one twin to the other and then looked contemptuously at Abigail. “I gave Josie the money so she could escape. Miss Amanda knew nothing about this.”
“That’s tantamount to thievery in this country and no different than taking an expensive watch or gold from a bank’s vault. I could have the sheriff lock you in jail.”
Helene paled considerably.
“But you won’t because I shall reimburse you for whatever price you set.” Amanda stepped in between them. “But why would you do such a thing, Helene? You didn’t even like Josie.”
The maid lowered her gaze to the floor. “I didn’t, not really, but I pitied her. Without family here, she was almost as much an outcast among the other slaves as I. And Josie was terrified that Yankees would come to town and take her north to work. Apparently she had been betrothed to a man in Valdosta, wherever that is. I gave her half my passage money..”
Abigail clucked her tongue. “Yankees overrunning Wilmington? I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous.”
Amanda faced her sister. “Jackson purchased a woman about to be married in Georgia. He tore her from her family and fiancé?”
“Brokers don’t provide personal details about slaves, only what skills they might possess.” Abby flushed a bright pink. “I must sit down. This is all too much.”
“May I bring you something to drink, ma’am?” asked Helene.
Her laughter turned shrill. “Do you mean you still work for my sister? Or have you begun a one-woman slave relocation program? Perhaps you have become a spy for the Yankees from behind boudoir draperies?”
Helene either didn’t recognize the sarcasm or chose to ignore it. “No, ma’am, I’m still a lady’s maid for Miss Amanda unless she wishes to fire me.”
“I would appreciate help until I can arrange your passage home, Helene,” said Amanda.
“Thank you, ma’am. I will expect no wages until I’ve repaid you for Josie’s…value.”
Amanda shook her head. “No, I’d already planned to purchase the girl’s freedom before leaving. Now it’s taken care of. But if you’re still my maid, could you please bring Mrs. Henthorne some water and a pot of coffee for me?” She opened her fan to cool Abby’s face. Her sister indeed looked peaked.
“It would be my pleasure.” Helene strode toward the door, but Abigail stopped her in her tracks.
“If you intend to remain, Helene, I’ll expect no further mischief in the future.”
Helene bobbed a perfunctory curtsey. “You have my word, madam.”
Amanda wrung out a damp cloth from the basin for Abby’s forehead. “I am sorry, sister. It wasn’t my intention to create havoc for you, especially with your delicate condition.”
Abby laid her head back and closed her eyes. “What did you mean by ‘Nate has no use for a slave where he’s going’? Has your paramour decided to move north?”
Amanda blinked back the moisture clouding her vision. “Quite the contrary. He joined the army—the Confederate army. He’s on his way to Fort Fisher as we speak.”
“Now? Why would he remain neutral for so long and then all of a sudden change his mind?”
“His brother is at the fort. Joshua is a lieutenant who will lead men into battle. Apparently, Josie’s prediction wasn’t too far from the truth. More Union gunboats have arrived at the mouth of the Cape Fear. Their artillery fired on the fort—on Christmas Eve, no less.”
“Colonel Lamb will keep Wilmington safe, as he has done so far.” Abby didn’t sound as confident as she had earlier.
“I hope that’s true. Nathaniel enlisted because he fears for his brother in the coming battle. We must pray it is much ado about nothing.”
In a rustle of silk, Abby rose clumsily to her feet and dropped the wet cloth on the floor. “With the mystery of the missing Josie solved, I think I will retire to my room and lie down. I’ll leave you to your coffee and breakfast.”
“Another minute of your time, please.” Amanda walked to the fireplace to add more wood. The room had grown damp and cold. “Nate sent a warning to Jackson. He cannot send his steamers downriver to the sea. The Cape Fear has been planted with water mines to thwart any invasion by Union troops.”
“How preposterous! Jackson would have heard if this was true.”
“It has been a recent development. Joshua Cooper brought word from Fort Fisher on Christmas Eve.”
Abby’s mouth formed the letter O. “Why would Mr. Cooper help my husband? Jackson has never treated him kindly.”
“Astute of you to recognize that. I asked the very same thing. Nate said it’s because you are my sister. He loves me, and I love him.”
“Yes, that has been apparent for some time.” Abby braced one hand on the door frame. “Thank you for telling me, Amanda. I’ll pass the information along to Jackson to do with as he chooses. Ah. At long last, here is your coffee tray.”
Jackson yearned for a quiet dinner with his wife that night. After the exasperating day at his warehouses, he certainly didn’t need any more irritation. According to the consensus on the docks, Captain Hornsby had run off with his load of cotton, depriving him of substantial profits. He had yet to share this news with Robert. None of the sailors had seen hide nor hair of the Countess Marie, and Hornsby knew better than to show up in Wilmington seeking another load anytime soon. If he did, Jackson would be ready for the scoundrel. He had purchased a derringer that fit discretely in his breast pocket. It held only two shots, but that would be sufficient to discourage further trickery from the blackguard.
Unfortunately, when he entered his foyer, one glance at Abigail’s pinched face dashed his hopes for relaxation. “What has happened? Is it the baby?” he asked with growing unease.
“No, we are both fine. Just a bit of distressing news I’ll tell you at dinner.” She smiled prettily, a gesture that never ceased to lift his spirits.
“Why haven’t you eaten? It’s after eight. With your delicate condition, you should never wait this long.” Wrapping an arm around her waist, Jackson guided her toward the dining room.
“Aren’t you having your usual bourbon first?” She turned her face up to his.
“I want you to sit down and eat. Amos, please bring Mrs. Henthorne a glass of lemonade and a weak drink for me. Then ask Salome to send up dinner at once.”
“Very good, sir.” The butler picked up Jackson’s overcoat and hat and disappeared down the hallway.
Once they were seated with cool drinks, Jackson reached for his wife’s hand. “Tell me why you waited.”
“I tried to dine earlier with Amanda but had no appetite. Perhaps I can eat now.”
Jackson leaned b
ack as the footman served bowls of thick onion soup, the crusty cheese still bubbling. “Let’s allow this to cool while you tell me what’s troubling you.”
“Amanda found out that our army planted water mines near the mouth of the river. She believes your ships will be sunk if they venture out to sea.”
Of all the things that could upset a society matron, this had to be last on the list. “What the devil?”
“Do not invoke that name, Jackson. It can only make matters worse.” Abigail murmured a quiet prayer under her breath.
He finished his drink and then called to the butler. “Bring me a lemonade too.” He modulated his tone for his wife. “Explain how my English sister-in-law could be privy to such revelations when I haven’t heard a word on the wharf.”
“Perhaps our army fears spies among the dockworkers, so they keep silent. Recent immigrants hold all sorts of allegiances these days.”
Jackson blinked at the woman who looked like his wife but certainly didn’t sound like her. “Yet, Amanda was able to find out.”
Abigail smiled, grasping the irony at last. “Ah, yes. Mr. Cooper told her before he left town to enlist at Fort Fisher. I believe his brother is a general at the fort. Anyway, his brother told the shopkeeper, who told my sister.” She tried a spoonful of soup. “Oh, my. This is delicious. I’m so glad Salome changed from those heavy fish chowders.”
“Cooper’s brother is a general at Fort Fisher?”
Her spoon halted midway to her mouth. “Maybe she said colonel. I don’t recall. But Joshua Cooper is the reason Amanda’s Mr. Cooper joined the Confederate army. Apparently he’s not an anarchist after all.”
“If there’s a shred of truth to this.” He pushed away his soup.
“I believe there is. He loves Amanda and, therefore, he feels a smidgen of loyalty to me as well.”
Jackson pressed his fingertips to his temples, where a dull ache had begun. “What you’re saying makes no sense, Abigail. Why would soldiers plant mines in the river? The blockade runners bring in food and guns as well as take cotton and tobacco out.”