Ashes in the Wind

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  “Just how far do you think we’re going to get, Yankee, with all that bluebelly blue and brass shining across the whole countryside?” Alaina questioned impatiently.

  Cole rolled his head back and heaved an exaggerated sigh of submission. “Lord save me from this woman!”

  “Get him in there.” She gestured to Saul and smiled smugly as the captain, with narrowed blue eyes, silently warned of some recompense. Cole lifted his leg over the side as Saul came to help him. As soon as the captain was laid in the coffin, the black lowered the lid, placing small pieces of board along the edge to provide a crack for air. The black crepe was carefully arranged to hide the space, and the back of the hearse closed. Cole sighed to himself as the hearse jounced into motion. At least he was warm and dry, but it was small solace when Alaina’s giggle still rang in his ears.

  As they headed back across the field to the lane that wandered along the bayou, Alaina rose on one knee and turned to stare back over the body of the hearse. She could see the still-smoking rubble that bore no hint of the home it once had been. The beautiful wisteria vines had gone with the rest and would never grow there again. The heavy ash would leach out its lye in the rains to sour the spot for months to come. Briar Hill was now a cluster of barns, stables, and dogtrot cabins. The great white house that had been the MacGaren pride was gone. All that remained of it were the years of memories that drifted through Alaina’s mind.

  She sat down on the seat again beside Saul and huddled deep into the oversize coat against the morning’s dampness. No heed was given to the tears that streamed down her cheeks, for the weight of this young day was already heavily oppressive. A freshet breeze stirred the trees and brought a stench of smoke and ashes. It embellished what would be her last memory of home for a long time.

  Chapter 21

  THE hearse had just turned onto the Marksville road when a rapidly approaching clatter of hooves warned them to pull off and hide behind a stretch of brush. Saul climbed down to muffle the horses, while Alaina ran back to warn Cole. Presently the rotund shape of Emmett Gillett came into sight riding a mule that was more inclined to saunter lazily along despite the obvious dither of haste his master was in. Though the beast was whipped into a disjointed trot with a stout willow cane, he quickly tired of the pace and gave a series of arched-back crow hops that completely disrupted Emmett’s decorum. Then, for a space, the animal strolled leisurely along as was his wont until the man recovered enough poise and breath to use the cane again. It was in such a manner that Emmett gradually wound his spurtive course past the trees and brush where the hearse was hidden, and finally jolted out of sight.

  “I don’t know where he’s going,” Cole remarked dryly as Saul came around to the back of the van. “But I doubt if he’ll arrive with his mount.”

  “That way is Marksville,” the black grunted.

  “He’s probably gone to warn the sheriff that there’s a Yankee roaming loose hereabouts,” Alaina enlarged upon the blunt statement. “We’d better head toward Cheneyville in case there’s any Confederate troops around.”

  Cole peered at her wonderingly from beneath gathered brows. For one so staunchly Southern, she had thrust herself wholeheartedly into the task of getting him through. Yet her reasons were most confusing.

  Alaina turned and found him watching her. Disconcertedly she snatched the brim down low over her brow and mumbled sourly, “What are you staring at, Yankee? A body would think I had two heads the way you’re gawking.”

  “Sorry,” he apologized gruffly. “I was just trying to decide which side of you is the real Alaina MacGaren.”

  In the late afternoon they came to the outskirts of a small town and quietly eased the hearse into an empty shed near some deserted railroad tracks. Saul closed the wide doors behind them, and they had just settled themselves on upended boxes and pallet to share a cold supper of ham and boiled eggs when the thunderous approach of a large group of horses brought them to a startled rigidity.

  “It’s a Confederate patrol,” Saul whispered as he peered through a crack in the boards and, after a long moment, added, “Looks like dey is plannin’ to make camp right smack dab on top of us.”

  Alaina swallowed, hardly tasting the bite of ham she had only half chewed.

  The crunch of gravel nearby warned them to silence, and they waited, scarcely breathing, as an officer and a sergeant passed the shed.

  “You checked this place, Sergeant?”

  “Got it earlier, sir. Didn’t even come across a cockroach. We searched all the barns and sheds in town, too. It’s not likely anyone will be getting through with all four roads covered by our men.”

  The captain walked on, while the sergeant strolled around the corner of the shed and began to relieve himself against the boards. Alaina had been listening intently, but as the sound intruded upon the tension-filled silence, she turned away from her companions with a blush that made her ears burn, absolutely refusing even to glance toward Cole.

  With the Confederate soldiers wandering about so close to the shed, the fugitives crept about with the utmost caution lest some careless noise give them away. Feed bags were hung on the horses’ noses to muffle a chance snort and keep them docile. Cole kept his pistol within easy reach, while Saul wove strips of cloth in the trace chains to keep them from jingling.

  Their nerves stretched taut with the tension. It seemed only a matter of time before some curious explorer would throw open the door to discover them. Indeed, it was like being naked in the town square and waiting for some passerby to point out the fact. A young soldier sauntered near and rested his hand on the door latch for several moments while he chatted with a companion. The three in the shed waited breathlessly, hearing his voice but oblivious to his words as they stared at the metal latch bar that rattled and strained when the young private leaned against it.

  The door banged and rebounded with a crash as the Confederate straightened from his rest and answered the call to chow. Weak with relief, Alaina sank onto a small wooden box as the soldiers strolled away together. Cole stowed his pistol back in its holster, while Saul danced a loose-footed shuffle in the dirt.

  Suddenly a muffled thump came from the far end of the shed, and in the meager light, the outline of a small door, low in the wall, appeared as the portal was pushed open against a pile of dirt that blocked it. Alaina’s and Cole’s pistols came around to cover the intruder, and Saul seized a hefty length of wood as thick as his forearm for his weapon. When the door was pushed wide, a slight form wiggled through and stood up to dust the dirt from his pants. It was Tater Williams.

  Cole relaxed against the wheel of the hearse as the youth moved toward them apprehensively eyeing the two guns that followed his movement. The boy jerked a thumb over his shoulder and hastened to explain. “Thar’s a wood box outside.” He let his gaze rest on the captain’s pistol. “Anyhows, ah didn’t come ter do yez no harm.”

  “How did you find us?” Cole questioned.

  “Followed yez.” The ragged boy seemed unconcerned by the inquiry. “Ol’ man Gillett sent Emmett to Marksville and me here. Emmett took the mule and left me afoot.” He grinned wisely. “ ‘Course, dat ol’ mule and Emmett ain’t never had no common ground atwixt ’em. Ah figger ah beat him, even afoot. Ah were s’posed to tell the deputy ’bout the cap’n gettin’ ‘way, an’ all.” At their suddenly suspicious stares, he quickly added, “Ah did, too! ‘Course, ah ain’t said where ye was.”

  Alaina peered at him narrowly, curious as to what end the boy served. Tater scuffed a bare foot in the dust and looked at her sheepishly.

  “Ah don’t like Emmett none too much, and when y’all left him trussed up in the smokehouse, I figgered I owed ya somep’n. Haw!” The boy clamped a hand over his own mouth to smother the sudden outburst, then gave a low giggle. “When ol’ man Gillett found Emmett hog-tied and they take dat rag outa his mouth, Emmett set in ter squallin’ ’bout how’s a boogerman and a dozen Yankees got him and how he fought ’em all ‘til the boogerman squ
ashed him. Ya could jes’ see ol’ Gillett astewin’ and afumin’. He say, ‘Put dat rag back in his mouf.’ “ The giggles threatened again. “His pa left Emmett in dat dirty ol’ smokehouse ‘til mornin’, and Emmett were as mad as a scorched woods hog when he got hisself out. His pa made him scrub down in the horse trough afore he could come in an’ eat. Emmett swore if’n it was the las’ thing he’d ever do, he was gonna shut the cap’n in dat smokehouse ‘til he is cured up like a ham.”

  A shout sounded from outside, and the rebel camp was stirred into a rush of activity. The two pistols turned away from Tater, much to his relief, and covered the door. The Confederate officer came stamping past with several of his men, and the fugitives had no trouble hearing his words as he bellowed to the sergeant.

  “There’s a Yankee patrol out of Alexandria camped just a few miles up the road. Leave the details covering the roads and bring the rest of the men. We’ll see if we can’t do something to spoil those Yankees’ sleep a little.”

  The troopers rushed to mount, and soon only empty tents remained in the yard. Tater William dusted his shoulder and looked proud as he crowed, “Ah also told one o’ ’em road guards thar was a whole passel o’ Yankees a-comin’ down ‘long the river road.” He met their quizzical stares and shrugged innocently. “Thar is! Thar’s always a passel o’ Yankees somewheres ‘long the road.”

  A smile of hope brightened Alaina’s face as her eyes met Cole’s. “Maybe we can sneak past and get you to the Yankee patrol.”

  “Hain’t much chance o’ that,” Tater scoffed. “Them Yankees don’t git too far afore they draws a swarm o’ grayback hornets. They jes’ feel around a bit, then head back when the goin’ gits hard.”

  Alaina’s shoulders slumped in disappointment, and the strain of the long night and day showed in her face. Her features were drawn and tight, her eyes downcast as she tried to think of a way they could avoid the roadblocks and get out of Cheneyville safely.

  Tater hunkered down on his heels until he caught her gaze. “Miz ‘Laina?”

  Alaina’s jaw sagged, and a startled look came at the use of her name. At that moment Cole began to seriously wonder if he was the only one she had fooled with her disguise.

  “Shucks, Miz ‘Laina,” Tater smiled gently. “Ah knowed right off ya weren’t no boy, an’ ah didn’t know any other friend o’ Saul’s what fit yer size. Ah also knows what Emmett done ter ya when the Yankees was up here last year. Ah always liked yer folks. They was good ter me, an’ my pa sez y’all was fine, upstandin’ folk, an’ it were a shame ‘at y’all weren’t ’round here no mo’. Miz ‘Laina?” He reached out and tugged at the cuff of her sleeve to bring her tear-filled eyes back to him. “They built this here steam engine track right outside the door. It were s’posed to go clean down to New Orleans, but this is as far as they got afore the war. My pa was sayin’ as how he worked on it back then, an’ as how they got the levee built for it almost down ter Holmesville afore they quit. They ain’t no iron or wood on top of it, but my pa said it’d be a good way ter go if’n a body wanted ter git south a ways and not be seen. Them Johnnies got the road blocked, but they’s mostly from other parts an’ don’t know nothin’ ’bout this. Y’all can catch a road east or one south along the bayou, which ever way you have a mind ter go.”

  Alaina doffed her hat and, sniffing loudly, wiped her face on a sleeve and leaned forward to give the boy a brief hug of gratitude. Tater rose quickly to his feet and was suddenly fumble-footed in confusion. After a moment of indecision, he mumbled a few words about luck and home, then slipped out the door and was gone.

  Darkness descended over the small town with the setting of the sun, and a scattered layer of fluffy clouds played tag with a bright half-moon. Saul slipped out and steathily crept about the minimumly guarded camp, coming back with several appropriated blankets. In the warm weather of the southern land, it was a matter of speculation as to what he needed them for until he began to wrap the iron rims of the hearse’s wheels and gathered squares of the same to muffle the horses’ hooves. Cole checked his pistol and settled into the open coffin as Saul and Alaina eased open the doors of the shed.

  The hearse rolled out like a silent ghost as Saul led she horses forward. The doors were closed behind them, and the wheel ruts were erased, then Alaina followed, dusting away all signs of their passage, while Saul guided hearse and horses onto the tracks until the wheels straddled one of the rusty rails. As soon as Alaina climbed into the seat, he shook the reins, urging the team into motion.

  Noiselessly they passed lamp-lit houses at the edge of town and were behind a masking copse of trees before the barking of dogs roused anyone to see. A few yards further on, the rails ended, and soon the regular jolting of wheels over ties also ceased. The smooth rise of the railroad embankment extended straight ahead into the swamp, leaving behind the roads and the Confederates who guarded them. The first of several trestles was still boarded over, a necessary convenience for the passage of horses and wagons during construction, and the team trustingly followed Saul as he led them over it.

  Before dawn they were on the road east of Holmesville heading toward the rising sun and the Mississippi. With the coming of daylight, Cole retreated like a vampire into his crypt, and as the morning wore on, began to realize the full stricture of his confinement. The swelling of the upper leg had extended to the knee, and his ankle grew tight in the boot. Though the small blocks of wood at the head of the coffin lid held it open enough for an occasional wisp of air to enter, Cole could barely move in the narrow confines. Each lurch or bounce sent a stabbing pain through his leg, and his head thrumped on the bare wood planking of the coffin. He gritted his teeth and forced his mind away from his present plight. He tried to form a mental picture of Roberta. Her sultry beauty and the round, ripe curves of her body could have been a delight had they also been imbued with a like measure of life and spirit. Recalling her dark, foreboding frowns and the bite of her vitriolic tongue, he failed miserably in his effort.

  Slowly, unbidden, and in relaxing distraction, a vision of thickly fringed, clear gray eyes crept into his mind and played a gamut for him as they squinted in jest, widened in wonder, laughed, teased, feared, threatened, raged, cried. A slim, straight but pert nose joined the mesmerizing pools of gray and rivaled them in its expressions. Soft, full lips gently smiled and beckoned, parting beneath his. Young, tender breasts heaved with every gasping breath as she answered his hard, thrusting body, and her arms—

  Enough of that! Cole savagely attacked his rebellious thoughts until they cowered in meek submission back into a comer of his mind. But his heart was pounding, and sweat was pouring from his brow. There was no way he could fully ascribe his state to the growing warmth of the coffin.

  Cole turned his reluctant musings onto a fresh track, considering the possibilities of the near future. The plan of progress was loose, to the point of being undefined and flexible enough to accommodate a multitude of unknown eventualities. In the hope that some of these might be bypassed with viable tender, he had given Alaina a small packet of gold coins and several silver dollars which he had hidden in the bottom of his bullet pouch and which had remained a secret even when Emmett had worn the pistol belt. Now all he had to do was keep his patience and bide his time until that moment he would be free of his narrow prison.

  Around midmorning, the hearse approached a crossroads just as a troop of gray-clad cavalry arrived at the juncture. Alaina reached back and gave a quick double rap on the body of the hearse, warning Cole to be quiet, as Saul drew rein well back from the detail and called out the usual warnings about yellow fever, pointing to the flags that decorated the comers of the hearse. The officer waved them on, but, after they passed, the patrol fell in behind, keeping a safe distance away. They provided the fugitives with an unwanted escort for the rest of the morning, but at noon the patrol drew off the road into a spot of shade, halting for a rest and a quick meal. Saul restrained his urge to race the team away, but once safely out of earsho
t, he guided them into the next side road, one that bordered a lazy bayou. Though the new path wound tortuously to and fro, they saw no more of the soldiers.

  Beneath the noon sun, the coffin began to take on all the aspects of an oven, causing Cole much distress to which his repeated, and highly colorful protestations left little doubt. Saul finally stopped, and they opened the coffin to give the complaining Yankee a breath of cooling air. By now his temper was well frayed. He was drenched with sweat, his face beet red from the heat. Even Alaina dared no retort as he glared at her, but mutely handed him a bucket of water as he stripped off the woolen blouse and the shirt beneath it.

  The sun was several hours past its zenith when the hearse came to a juncture of two waterways and the end of the road, a short distance from where a small cabin squatted, amid cypress trees. It would be a long delay to backtrack to the main road without considering the risk involved, but it was openly apparent that they had little choice but to do so.

  A thin, bearded man left his rocking chair on the rickety porch of the cabin and, cradling an earthern jug fondly in the crook of his arm, meandered in their general direction. Alaina pulled down the rim of her hat, squinted her eyes to hide the gray of them, and leaned back against the high seat of the hearse.

  “Y’all be wantin’ ter cross?” the man called in a thin, reedy voice while he was still some distance away.

  “Yassuh,” Saul’s voice boomed. “We is takin’ de po’ massah back to his kinfolk, but ah doan rightly see as to how we is gonna git dere.”

  The man snickered in his beard and took a long pull at the jug without lifting his eyes from them. “W-a-a-l-l,” he cleared his throat hoarsely as he wiped his mouth on a sleeve. “Mos’ folks hereabouts use the ferry. ‘Course, ah don’t take jest anybody. Only those what got the fare. You got any money?”

  Alaina fished a hand in her pocket and, drawing out a silver dollar, handed it to Saul. The black passed it on to the thin man who tested it with his teeth, and frowned thoughtfully as he remembered the clink of coins he had heard.