Kentucky Bride

by Caryl McAdoo

Being in the middle between Ephraim and Daisy, with blankets draped over laps and shoulders, she was rather warm and comfortable, especially with her right hand in his under the cover.

  She lay her head on his shoulder and daydreamed of a future with him. Thinking about leaving him there with the soldiers . . . knowing the dangers he would ultimately face . . . She had to put the thoughts out of her mind.

  If God meant it to be, it would be. She would pray for him as she did for Papa, Christopher, and Uncle Charles.

  Clearing her throat, she broke the silence. “The Almanac says it’s supposed to be sunny and warm today.”

  “It does?” He nodded to his left. “Red sky in the morning, sailor take warning.”

  Wow! What a sunrise! The whole earth looked ablaze. How long had it been since she looked up? It had only seemed a few minutes.

  “Only the Lord knows for sure. This road gets sloppy, but it should remain passable if the creeks don’t rise.”

  Daisy leaned out. “I brought a basket full of food. Anyone hungry?”

  As the miles piled upon themselves, it warmed up some, but nothing compared to the flame Ephraim had kindled in Gigi’s heart.

  If only her mother hadn’t insisted on Daisy coming along. She daydreamed of the conversation as if it were just the two of them and of a future with Ephraim as her husband.

  He would build her a home in Bowling Green where she would bear his children. A boy first for him, then a little girl for her.

  Or maybe she should give him two sons before the little princess so the brothers could be close and protect their little sister.

  Yes, that would be perfect.

  “Where’re we staying tonight, Miss Gigi? Miss Peggy Sue said she’d like it if we were to look in on her place.”

  The question startled Gigi from the pleasantries she’d been enjoying. She squeezed Ephraim’s hand. “Think there’ll be enough time to get back to Auntie’s before dark?”

  “Doubt it. These mules have labored and are heavy laden as the Bible says. I’ve already cut them back a quarter an hour. We’ll have to grain ’em and give ’em a good rest before we get much farther.”

  “Poor old boys.”

  “On the way back home, you’ll be skinning your own fresh mules, but I still doubt you could make it before dark.”

  “Well then, is there somewhere we can stay at the camp?”

  “There’s the supply barn. I’ll find you a dry corner and guard it with my life.”

  His words swelled her heart. Her gallant sweetheart stood ready and willing to give his life for her safety. Love was so grand! And he was absolutely right; they needed to be married.

  The sooner the better as far as she was concerned. She tapped out ‘I love you’ in Morse Code on his thigh.

  With a nod, he responded with his thumb touching the back of her hand, spelling out that he loved her more.

  A wide grin spread across her face. She bumped her shoulder to his then coded ‘no you do not.’

  ‘Will you marry me?’

  A proposal in Morse Code! There couldn’t be anything she’d want more than saying yes! Instead, she tapped out ‘I would love that.’

  ‘Me, too. Is tonight too soon?’

  ‘Yes, silly. My family has to be there.’

  His thumb fell silent as did his lips. She tapped out ‘what’s wrong?’

  Shaking his head, he glanced over and spoke aloud. “They hang deserters.”

  “I see. Well.” She nodded then tapped on his leg ‘you will have to wait.’

  His head dipped once then he lifted his chin a bit to the right. “There’s a clearing up ahead a quarter mile or so if memory serves. We’ll rest the mules there.”

  “Fine by me.” She squeezed his hand. She loved being engaged and it being his and her secret.

  If only she could marry him that very night.

  Then she could kiss him all night long. With a big grin at her musings, she cleared her throat, making sure sound would come forth.

  “How about you, Daisy? What do you say?”

  “I says yes, ma’am. I be ready. Getting’ to stretch my legs a bit and findin’ me a nice bush’ll put dis old gal in dem high cotton rows.”

  What a corker. To hear her talk, a body would think Daisy was some ignorant field hand who couldn’t pour water out of a boot with the instructions written on the heel. “Girl, have you ever picked one boll of cotton in the entirety of your life?”

  Chapter 6

  Daisy didn’t engage the girl. She’d picked her share of lint, but definitely didn’t want to embarrass Gigi in front of her new beau.

  What interested her more was getting a measure of the man. She’d promised to give Miss Margaret a full report on the fella. Daisy understood.

  Just like an old mama bear, that lady wanted to swat away any threats to her cub.

  Not always an easy thing to do though, especially when your baby girl acted like she’d been struck by a bolt of love-lightning.

  The wagon stopped, and she flung off the blanket and jumped down. She gave Gigi the same glaring expression she’d been using on her the whole of her life. “Hoeing the garden’s about the same.”

  The girl grinned. “No, it definitely isn’t. From what I hear, picking cotton is backbreaking, finger-pricking, hard, hot work.”

  Daisy hiked her shirts up to her ankles, crinkled her cheeks into her you-don’t-know-what-you’re-talking-about smile then hurried to that bush she’d been needing for the last two miles.

  On her return, she found the pair working on the teams on the far side from her. Them two! Most likely they’d been doing more sparking than mule tending!

  Kissed him on the first day they’d met, so why wouldn’t she be at it again on the second?

  Bless God that she and Missy were heading home on the morrow, and he would be staying put in Hindman’s camp. With the war, what used to take a month of Sundays happened in a day.

  It wasn’t right. He’d have her . . . She stopped that line of thought. Miss Margaret and she had raised that baby girl right.

  Gardenia Gladiola would never be slipping off with Ephraim—even if he begged her. Although from what she’d seen, the young corporal wouldn’t do any such thing. He seemed like he’d been brought up right, too.

  As far as she was concerned, he appeared to be a man who feared God and valued his honor.

  Him blurting out that they hung deserters . . . that puzzled her a might, but apparently not Gigi. Odd for sure.

  Maybe like something a man would say when caught in a bind. If Daisy had to guess, she figured Missy wanted him to quit the Army and stay with her. But she didn’t think he’d do that.

  After nowhere near long enough for Daisy, he called it quits to the rest and had the wagon back on the road like if he’s a rooster and there be a dozen June bugs just waiting for him to gobble down.

  A ways past Scatter Creek, she figured out what they were doing, why they’d been so quiet and all the whole way. Gigi’s brother, as his father before him, had worked the telegraph.

  The whole family—and that included even Daisy—knew Mister Morse’s code. Of course, she didn’t let anyone outside of the family know she could read, and write, and cypher.

  Slaves got themselves strung up for such. Not that Bowling Green folks acted like that, but she’d heard plenty about how the whites abused their darkies farther down south.

  Although she couldn’t follow Gigi’s part of the conversation; only that the lap blanket moved in rhythm . . . not enough for her to get any of it.

  He must have been pressing on her hand, cause half the time, that blanket stayed still as a green lizard on a spring leaf, but sitting there thinking no one could see him.

  But then when his turn came round, his head bobbed in longs and shorts, and she could spell out most of what he said. Having a pen and some paper would make it easier to figure out, but mostly, she only had trouble with the real long words.

  Right before Glassy Creek, Gigi caugh
t her staring, and she had to look away, missing how many babies he wanted.

  Wasn’t nothing right about them having a private conversation right there in front of her. Shame Gigi came along so soon. Marigold treated Daisy with respect.

  Why, that sweet little thing wouldn’t think of stepping on her feelings, not for nothing.

  Gigi acted like she was a sister or something and got her way every time—even with Daisy being eight full years older than the girl.

  The afternoon warmth faded some. Gigi stopped her tapping long enough to get the shoulder blanket back up on everyone’s shoulders. Daisy quit watching, let ’em have their private conversation.

  Didn’t matter what they said anyway. He’s staying, and she’s going and that be that.

  She leaned out. “How much farther, Corporal Kerns?”

  “Not far.” He looked over at her. “Mile, mile and a quarter at the most.”

  “Well, if you will, please stop this wagon. I gots to find me another bush right this minute or I’m liable to wet us all.”

  As requested, he pulled the team over to the roadside and stopped the wagon. “Whoa, boys.”

  “You shouldn’t have guzzled that water like you did back there.”

  Once her feet hit the ground, she winked up at Missy. “I’m sorry to be a burden. I just can’t help it. I might be a pretty long minute, but I’ll try to hurry best as I can.” She winked the other eye.

  The Reb camp was a hive of activity, but even more than those on the move, hundreds of men either sat or stood around. Gigi had never seen so many armed men all together, each with a rifle and pistols and knives aplenty hanging from their belts.

  Preparing. For what?

  To kill her papa, brother, and uncle!

  All of a sudden, an anger rose up inside, warming her face with boiling blood! Stupid men! Stupid, stupid men!

  Good thing Ephraim didn’t hear her.

  And sweet as he was, he ordered—in a nice way—a couple of soldiers to unload the wagon, then recruited the same two to move the wagon over into the barn’s southeast corner.

  Making certain she had everything necessary for two comfortable pallets and extra blankets hanging to enclose a makeshift room, he disappeared along with his men.

  His helpers soon returned with two full oil lamps, a large barrel, four chairs, and a message that her love would be back with supper as soon as he could.

  Daisy pulled out a deck of cards and a small cribbage board, a nice way to pass the time. Next time she saw him, he held four steaming mugs, two in each hand. A black man shadowed him, carrying a tray he set on the top of the barrel.

  Four bowls of beans and rice with a hunk of cornbread resting on top each looked inviting enough.

  “Gigi, this is Bo. He’ll be standing guard with me tonight.”

  “Good to meet you, sir.” She took her bowl from Ephraim then chose one of the tin mugs. He and Bo sat in the two empty chairs.

  “I ain’t no sir, ma’am.” He took a bowl and mug for himself, chuckling. “No, ma’am. His pap named me Bonaparte after the great general. It means ‘a good solution.’ Knucklehead here couldn’t say it right.”

  She grinned. “I see.”

  “So he shortened it to Bo, and it stuck.”

  His teeth shone so white against his pitch-black skin. Daisy had to be at least ten shades lighter.

  She liked the man even though he seemed a bit uppity—more like a big brother to Ephraim than a slave; definitely comfortable to speak his mind, calling his master a knucklehead like that. Reminded her of Daisy—whom Gigi couldn’t love more.

  “Well, that’s a good name. I never knew its meaning, but I like that as well. Matter of fact, I prefer Bonaparte to Bo. It sounds more regal, plus who knows what Bo means? Unless you like it more. Is it all right if I call you by your given name?”

  “Fine by me, ma’am. You can call me whatever you like.”

  “Good! That’s what it’ll be then.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. And Bo means precious, treasured. See why I don’t mind Bo, either?”

  “That’s you, all right. I should’ve called you Bonehead.” Ephraim glanced over to her with a smile. A spoonful of beans and rice hovered over his bowl. “That means hardheaded and stubborn and suits him perfectly!”

  She laughed at the banter. “It’s great knowing such a man will be watching over us tonight and doing a good job of it.”

  “That’s me, ma’am. You and your pretty gal here can rest comfortable, knowing me and the knucklehead are watching out over you.” He smiled at Daisy. “You can rest assured some varmint can’t get past us both.”

  “Enough jawing.” Ephraim threw his man a nod. “My stomach is growling; let’s eat.”

  Since she and Daisy had been sitting across from one another, with everyone settled in, it turned out boy, girl, boy, and girl. She mostly kept her eyes on Ephraim but now and again when he glanced Bonaparte’s way, she’d look, too.

  It appeared the two slaves appreciated one another, making eyes and grinning ear to ear.

  Using her boot’s toe, she tapped out on a message on his. ‘That’s something. Fun if they married, too.’

  His toe raised, so she put hers down. In Morse Code, he replied, ‘I thought of it the moment I met Daisy.’

  ‘Has he ever jumped the broom?’

  With a big grin, Ephraim pointed his spoon at his man. “Bo, you ever jump the broom with anyone?”

  “Heavens no, boy. You know I’s been spending all my time running after you. Too busy keeping you right.”

  “Oh, is that so? I believe I’m the one pulled your black self out of that last dustup we were in.”

  The man held up both hands as if he couldn’t imagine what Ephraim insinuated then looked right at her.

  “You best watch this one, Miss Gigi. I believe he went and left his mind back in Texas. You ever want the truth about all the times I saved his pale hide, you just ask.” He kept his face as a stone mask for a bit, then the edges of his lips curled up a fraction.

  “I’ll remember that.” She turned to Daisy. “Whatever happened to that McCord man who was coming around of a Sunday?”

  With barely a shrug, she ducked her chin a tad. “Not one thing that I know of. He’s still around. I think he and Fredericka been stepping out some. Can’t be sure about it though. He may be on to someone else by now. I don’t keep up with that cad.”

  A silence followed as the beans and cornbread were eaten. Ephraim spoke first.

  “Talked with Colonel Terry, and he said you ladies are welcome to use the officer’s outhouse. Just say the word, and one of us will escort you.”

  “You’re so sweet, Ephraim. You’ve thought of everything.” She reached over and touched his hand. “Thank you. That’s very considerate.”

  “You’re most welcome.” Was that a dash of pink in his cheeks? She loved him from the first, but the more she got to know him, the bigger that love grew.

  A long mournful note sounded; someone had rosined up their bow. Another joined him, then the tune turned lively. A trumpet joined in, then next, a drummer. Bonaparte stood. “Them boys ain’t half bad. You ladies care to listen to some music?”

  “I’d love to. If it’s all right with you, Miss Gigi.”

  “You two go ahead. I believe I’ll take Ephraim up on his offer and visit the officer’s privy.”

  Daisy watched as the young ones walked out hand in hand. It didn’t bother her one whit that Miss Gigi was going to be alone with her corporal in the dark.

  Not once in all of what they thought to be their private conversation had Ephraim said anything improper or suggestive. She’d known enough scallywag men to spot one who only wanted a roll in the hay

  And those more interested in a life partner.

  For her nickel’s worth, no one could call the Texan a rooster looking for a willing hen.

  One of many lessons she’d learned the hard way, but she learned from her mistakes, and it would definitely never
happen again. She’d be happy as a calf at its udder to wait on Miss Margaret while she waited for the right man to come along.

  Bonaparte extended his hand toward her.

  “You ready? Or should we cold trail those two?”

  “I trust Miss Gardenia. Is Ephraim a true man?”

  “The finest kind. I couldn’t be prouder of the boy.”

  Accepting his offering, she let him pull her up. He put a little too much force in his yank but didn’t release her hand. Instead, he turned and placed it on his forearm, stopping her from being pulled into his chest.

  “Sorry, Miss Daisy. Guess I’m just a little excited to be stepping out with such a beautiful young lady and all. I’m a true man myself, so please forgive my bad behavior. You are as light as a feather.”

  “No apologies are necessary, Bo.” She smiled then followed his lead toward the barn door. She didn’t mind one bit being on the arm of such a handsome man either.

  “But I do suppose I’ll be the judge of your character, sir. I like it that you don’t hide your proper use of the King’s English.”

  “Sometimes.” He looked around then flashed his pearly whites. “I almost think I own the boy instead of the other way around. I love him more like a brother than him being my master. It’s a downright shame . . .” He glanced around again. “We’re fighting on the wrong side, you know.”

  “It’s true.” She gave the barn a quick look over then lowered her voice. “Have you heard the North’s battle song?”

  He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I sure have.”

  “And do you believe they’ll really set us free if they win the war?”

  “I do. But if not, Texas will once we’re a Republic again. Could there be a chance your people will let you come west?”

  Stepping out of the barn, she looked around again; such a conversation could get them both in trouble.

  “Miss Margaret lets me take in sewing and keep the money. I’ve almost got enough to buy myself free. Been saving for better than ten years now.” She stopped, turned to face him, then put her hands on his broad shoulders.

  His expression tickled her.

  Could he really think she’d be so bold as to . . . She pushed them back, causing him to straighten to his full height and judged his size. She liked a big man, all the better to protect her.