Jenny's Passion

by Diane Wylie

  “Everybody off!” the Rebel officer ordered.

  She dismounted, holding Star’s reins in her raised hands. The soldiers were ragged and dirty and almost as hungry looking as Jack and David had been. Only three even had shoes; the rest were barefoot. Had their proud army fallen on such desperate straits that they could no longer feed or clothe their members? Pity welled up in her chest. Everyone was suffering on all sides of this long and hideous struggle.

  “What do you want from us?” Phillip asked with exaggerated politeness.

  “Where are y’all from?” demanded the leader. He still bore the insignia of a corporal on one arm of his shabby uniform.

  “My home is Pleasant Run Plantation in Danton, Virginia, suh.”

  “A Southerner, eh?” The scraggly bearded officer pushed his equally scraggly hat back a bit to look at the group better. He waved his gun. “Y’all Southerners?”

  Jeffrey stepped forward.

  “I make my home in Pennsylvania, sir—.”

  “Mr. Reynolds!” Jennifer cried, but he just looked at her and smiled before speaking to the ragtag soldiers as if he, the owner of a major big city newspaper, was addressing a visiting foreign dignitary.

  “I am a Northerner, but I am not a soldier, and none of us wish to have any trouble here.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as he looked Jeffrey Reynolds up and down taking in the fine quality clothing that was travel-worn and dirty now. “I heared of a captain in the Union army name of Reynolds. You any kin to him?”

  “Please, sir,” Jenny spoke up quickly. “Mr. Reynolds is a friend of our family, and we merely want to go home. We have left our home unprotected and are just now returning from a family emergency.”

  “What kind of emergency would that be, Miss?” the Corporal asked as he openly ran his eyes over Jenny’s figure.

  “A loved one needed help, and we banded together to provide it, sir.”

  “I will say this again, Corporal. What do you want from us?” Papa repeated, drawing everyone’s attention. He seemed to grow larger and more menacing as Jenny watched.

  She tried to keep her face from betraying any reaction when David appeared behind the group of Rebels. The cold, hard look on his face unsettled her. Silently she watched him grab the soldier farthest from the rest, clap his hand over the man’s mouth, lift, and drag him into the brush. Nobody appeared to notice.

  “You want some food, suh?” Nate asked politely.

  He held the sack of apples out to the officer. Jenny watched their faces change to those of eager children, several of whom even wiped their watering mouths with their sleeves. At a brusque nod from the officer, the closest Reb stepped forward and took the offered bag. The other soldiers rushed at the man with the apples. Clearly they had not eaten in some time.

  * * *

  David waited for the right moment with his teeth clenched so hard that his jaw hurt as he crouched behind the bushes. The moment came with the apples. Leaping from his hiding place, he tackled the Confederate corporal. These men were the enemy. They had killed his friends and comrades, starved and imprisoned him, nearly killed Jack, and were now threatening his family! A red-hot rage took away all thoughts of discretion.

  From the corner of his eye he saw everyone mobilize. It was a five against seven men brawl.

  David made a lunge for the corporal’s rifle, knocking the man to the ground under him. Despite the frail appearance of the Reb, he was surprisingly strong…or David was not as fit as he had thought. They hit the ground and rolled, both grunting at the impact. He heard shouts and curses and a few gunshots. Grimy fingers clawed at his on the gun. A bony elbow smacked the side of his face. He punched the Reb in the jaw and dropped him when the man went slack.

  An unearthly howl came from behind him, and someone heavy jumped on his back. Then a hard blow hit the back of his head, and he fell on top of the unconscious corporal, twisting to meet his attacker only to see the end of a gun barrel.

  The rifle went off only inches from him with a loud boom and a whiff of gunpowder. His ears and head were ringing from the blast, but his body parts still worked. With a growl of rage, he slammed his boot right into the younger man’s groin. The rifle fell to the ground with a clatter, and the man went down writhing in agony and screaming.

  “Everybody STOP!”

  * * *

  And with those words, screamed at the top of his lungs, Nate took control of the situation. Everyone froze. They all turned their heads slowly to the young black man. He held a gun in each hand, expertly pointing one each at the officer on the ground and the other Confederates.

  “You Rebs, over there, hands in the air! No sudden moves!” Nate snapped. The soldiers complied, picking themselves up and limping over.

  Jack rose shakily to his feet, grabbed a dropped gun, and joined Nate. Phillip and Jeffrey followed suit, but Jenny paid no attention. She ran over to David, who seemed to be having trouble getting to his feet. She saw him try twice before finally getting up. Staggering slightly as he walked, he waved her offer of assistance aside without a word, picked up a rifle, and joined the other men.

  “Nate, what do you say? Shall we take their guns and send them on their way?” David asked with a tight-lipped smile. “Or shall we do what I really want and blow their damned heads off?”

  Jenny gasped aloud. But he caught her eye and winked. He was in control of the situation now. She closed her mouth, showing him she trusted him.

  “But we just wanted food,” whined one of the Rebs.

  Papa walked over to the wagon, reached in and pulled out a burlap sack. He filled it with apples, beef jerky, and potatoes from the food they had purchased. Walking over to the Rebs, he handed it to the closest man, who looked surprised.

  The officer was coming around, and the man David had kicked was sitting up, scowling angrily at the group and rubbing himself.

  “I don’t suppose you have any extra shoes or could maybe spare a horse?” the whining soldier asked.

  “Sorry, we can’t do that,” Papa responded.

  “You had best be on your way, gentlemen, while I am still of a mind to let you leave in one piece,” David spoke up. “You will find the missing member of your party behind the clump of holly about twenty paces south.”

  Grumbling and cursing, the Confederates picked up their fellows and began shuffling away in the direction the Winston party had come from.

  When the dust had settled, Jack let out a loud sigh of relief. “I never thought that I would be glad to let Rebs walk away alive. Poor devils look almost as bad as Andersonville inmates…almost… at least they are free.”

  * * *

  Her rear end was aching so badly Jenny nearly groaned aloud when Phillip hollered back to pick up the pace again. She stood in the saddle to allow some blood to flow back into her nether region. They were making good time getting back to Pleasant Run and would arrive home within the next day or so, if they could keep it up.

  Slowing Star’s pace, she turned to look back for her husband. It had been obvious all day that he was suffering from a bad headache. One of the Rebs had hit him in the head with a rifle butt during their encounter the previous day. A rush of love and amazement at her husband’s power of endurance filled her. Their lovemaking was every bit as wonderful last night as it had been on their wedding night, in spite of the events of the day. Sometime during the night he had apparently developed the headache and, when she awoke, it was to find him unusually subdued and quiet.

  Refusing any food, he had only been drinking water all day long. He wore his wide-brimmed hat pulled low over his eyes against the glare of the sun, and he had stopped talking unless someone asked him a direct question. Now he was lagging behind the rest of the group, which was not at all like him. Jenny was getting worried. David loved to ride. No matter how long they were in the saddle he would get off refreshed and full of energy. He said it was because the horse did all the work.

  The group was crossing a lovely wide m
eadow that she would have normally admired with appreciation. It was a beautiful, peaceful, and quiet scene. Papa and Jeffrey Reynolds, as usual, were ahead of her, walking their horses side-by-side and talking, followed by Nate driving the wagon. The wind nudged and worried the black-eyed Susans scattered over the field of tall grass that just touched the underside of the horses’ bellies.

  Twisting in the saddle, she saw that David’s horse was moving slower and slower until it stopped. His broad shoulders were slumped, and his head hung low. She clicked her tongue and turned Star urgently.

  Galloping back, she called over her shoulder, “Hold up, Papa!” Reining to a stop beside her husband, she took in his defeated posture with mounting fear. “David! Whatever is the matter? Are you ill?”

  Slowly his head turned toward her, his eyes hidden by the deep shadows under his hat. “Jenny, I cannot ride any farther.”

  Pain shot through her, making her stomach clench. She put her hand on his arm, willing further explanation from him.

  “I-I am losing my sight again,” he said, his voice was low and filled with despair. “I cannot ride any more.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Damnation! He was sick to death of lying here useless and bored in this too-soft bed. When Jenny was with him, it was different. Bed was wonderful then. The loss of his sight had indeed heightened his sense of touch as everyone claimed. When his wife was here, oh how lovely that sense of touch was. How he wished she were here right now. But that was not possible or practical. Every able-bodied person was needed to run the plantation. Well, that left him out. What use was he to the Winston family? He could do nothing but lie here like a useless slug.

  His headache had faded somewhat, but it was never completely gone. The first week after the incident with the Rebs was a blur of excruciating pain, mixed with blank periods of drugged oblivion. Jenny had insisted that he drink the laudanum and, for the remaining trip to Pleasant Run, he had not objected. Only the nasty medicine had dulled the horrible feeling that the top of his head was coming off. If he didn’t take her potion, he spent his time in misery so wrenching that he vomited with regularity.

  All in all it was a bad time, better left in the past. With a new sense of resolve, David pushed himself to a sitting position. Tossing back the blankets, he swung his feet to the floor and stood. The air was cool against his bare skin and helped dispel the last remnants of the drowsy morning. Hands held in front of him, he slowly groped for the dresser beside the bed. Hand over hand he made his way along its length, carefully avoiding bottles and objects he figured to be standing there. When his hand encountered the oil lamp, he had the oddest urge to light the thing, as if that would banish the darkness. Foolish thought. The darkness is in you, not in the room.

  Continuing to feel along the dresser, his hand dropped off the edge. He hoped the chair with his clothing stood beside the dresser where Jenny had said she would put them. Halleluiah! One small triumph—he found cloth. He just hoped it was his clothes.

  It took another frustrating fifteen minutes to distinguish the shirt from the trousers, find the correct openings, push his limbs into them, and fumblingly button them correctly. It had taken three attempts feeling up and down the row of buttons to get the shirt buttoned the right way.

  By this time the headache had reasserted itself in a major way, but he was determined to get out of this room. Bending down, he touched the chair again. Where were his socks and boots?

  Dropping down to the floor, he crawled a short distance away from the chair, sweeping his hand out in front of him searching for the boots. No luck. He would just have to go out barefoot. No problem. Crawling back to the chair, he used it to push himself up to his feet again. With his hands he followed up the chair back and found the wall behind it. Feeling along the wall, he slowly stepped to the invisible oak door with raised panels that felt cool and smooth under his hands.

  Beyond the door lay a black unknown vastness whose shape and proportions he knew not. When he came up to this bedroom a week ago, it was with Jeffrey and Phillip on either side, nearly carrying him. The whiskey and laudanum-induced effects had not cleared from his mind when his wife wanted him put to bed post-haste. As a result, David only had a vague impression of steps and a long hallway since he saw nothing.

  He could call for someone to help the pitiful blind man, he supposed, but he knew the entire household was busy with the many duties a farm required. Mr. Winston had been away for two months, leaving the work to two elderly servants and his young son. Now he could hear the sounds of busy people—footsteps below, talking and shouts from outside, where work in the fields harvesting fall crops and late corn was commencing. There would be pumpkins and apples and various late ripening vegetables.

  He allowed himself a sigh of envy. How he would love to be free of his command, free of this blindness, free to farm his own fields, and raise his own horses with Jennifer at his side.

  Still holding the door, he reached one hand out into the nothingness with a barely repressed feeling of fear. What did he expect to touch, some unknown horror in the hall? Silly notion to be sure, but all the same a child’s fear of the dark was here with him now.

  With a deep breath for courage, he let go of the only solid object, save the floor beneath his feet, and stepped forward gingerly with both hands waving in front of him like a game of Blindman’s Bluff.

  He took one step forward then another on the soft, thick carpeting, resisting the urge to drop down on all fours to crawl the length of the hall. His thigh caught the edge of a table, rocking the objects on it with a clatter. By reflex he somehow found the oil lamp and righted it before it fell.

  “Captain Reynolds?”

  Someone tugged at his shirtsleeve. “Benjamin?”

  “Yes, it’s me and Romulus.” There was a panting noise, and a wet nose snuffled his hand. “Where are you going? Sister won’t like it, you know. She says you are to stay in bed, and I am not to bother you.”

  A small, warm hand took his, bringing a surge of joy and relief at the human touch. “Well, Ben, sometimes you just have to get out of bed and face the world again, no matter how hard it is. And, please, call me David.” He added in a softer voice, “We are brothers now, you and I.”

  He felt the boy wiggle his whole body and then he suddenly seemed taller. “I always wanted a brother, and now I have you. I like that,” he said. “I know you can’t see anymore, so you must need somebody to be like your eyes, right?”

  “As a matter of fact, I shall require someone. Will you be volunteering for the job, brother?”

  “I am. Where do you want to go…David?”

  “I want to go visit my best friend and then my horse.”

  Ben easily led him down the hall to Jack’s room for a nice visit, but the trip from the house to the barn took a long time. A newly blind person being led by an inexperienced little boy meant stubbed toes, tripping, and walking into door jams for David. He had to keep hold of himself and talk gently to Ben, who sounded as though he were on the verge of tears when David went to his knees after stumbling over a rock in their path.

  “Did you hurt yourself? Where are your shoes, brother?” the shaky little voice asked.

  “I don’t know, Ben. But I am fine; don’t worry, little brother. We both have to learn how to do this.” He pushed himself to his feet again, brushed the dirt from his palms on his trousers, and held his hand out for Ben’s.

  “B-But, it is my fault—.”

  “No, no, do not ever think that. How much practice do you have leading a blind man anyway?” Blind man…just the thought of what he was now, and might be forever, hurt deep down inside.

  “I-I have never done this before.”

  He could hear the tears in little Ben’s voice. David found and ruffled his hair. “Neither have I, Ben. It is going to take time for me and for you.”

  “Can anyone join you two gentlemen, or is this a private excursion?”

  It was Jenny’s voice. The rush of warmth
that flowed through David, just hearing her speak, shocked him with the intensity. His body responded with an inopportune reaction.

  “My brother wants to go see his horse.” There was a pause, and Ben said, “Is it all right to say ‘see,’ David?”

  He laughed, “Certainly. Now I just ‘see’ with my sense of touch and hearing.”

  “Just what happened to your shoes, David?”

  He smiled in her general direction. “I couldn’t find them.”

  “Hmmph. Next time you should tell me when you want to get out of bed, and I will help you, stubborn man.”

  “Certainly, sweetheart.”

  She kissed his cheek and took one arm, with their brother holding the other. They continued toward the barn with Rommie bouncing around them, woofing excitedly. It seemed very natural for his bride to pick up the guide role as she described each possible obstacle or pitfall.

  In her lovely soft Southern voice she described the sights that surrounded the little group for him. She told him of the blue, clear sky with little white puffs of clouds and of the green, lush fields on their left with the stalks of corn ready to be picked. He remembered the plantation, of course, but had only seen it during the winter when the plant life was dead and brown. How he wished he could see it all again.

  The smell of the barn and its inhabitants was more vivid for him now. He imagined he would get used to this dark world again. It was different this time. The last time he was plunged into darkness, his world was restricted to a spot under a shabby tent from which he did not venture except to relieve himself. Crazy Louie gave him something to eat every so often. Otherwise he was left alone to die or survive as he would. This time he was surrounded by loving, caring people, a fact that both gave him hope and humiliated him to the core.

  * * *

  Placing the teacup on the table beside him, Jenny took David’s hand and gently guided it to the cup.

  “Thank you, sweetheart. What did you want to talk about, Father?” David asked.

  “Would you like to talk alone?” Jenny asked. She was standing beside her husband’s chair ready to assist him when needed. This was his first time out of bed and she was concerned for him and, as usual, reluctant to leave him. These feelings were nothing new…since the first time she laid eyes on David Reynolds in that clearing so long ago she had not wanted to leave his side.