by Karen White
I shook my head, my anger giving way to fear tinged with curiosity. Besides our trek down Moon Mountain, I had never been this close to a horse in my life.
“Endymion? What kind of a name is that?” I stared warily at the black beast, its huge eye examining me as it shook its massive head.
“William named him after the Greek god Endymion. Are you familiar with the story?”
“I’m afraid not. My Greek mythology is a bit rusty.” I continued to eye the big horse, hoping that Stuart had been joking when he had mentioned me developing some sort of relationship with this animal.
Stuart gave Endy a vigorous scratch behind an ear, making the horse nod with pleasure. “Endymion was the husband of Selene, the goddess of the moon.” A wavering grin split his face. “He was quite the talented fellow.”
I took a step back from the great nodding head. “Oh, really. How so?”
Polishing the apple on his pants leg, Stuart looked away, as if he shouldn’t be telling me. “He fathered fifty daughters by Selene, all while he was reportedly asleep.”
I smirked. “You’re right. He was pretty talented. Not to mention fertile. I hope your Endymion is equally as prolific.”
Slowly, Stuart shook his head. “No. Endymion’s children were all pale like their mother and sleepy like their father. Hopefully, Endy’s offspring will be a mite more vigorous.”
Stuart gave the beast a resounding pat on the side of the neck, apparently a gesture of affection. He pulled off his hat and wiped the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve, then handed the apple to me.
I stared at the fruit in my hand, nervously twisting the stem off the top. “I hope you don’t intend for me to feed him this apple. I’m afraid he’ll take my whole arm off if I get too near.”
The object of our conversation seemed oblivious to our presence as his thick, bushy tail swooshed back and forth in a vain attempt to rid himself of the nuisance flies that flitted about.
“Endy has never bitten anyone.” Stuart looked down at his feet and kicked sand at a small lizard scurrying about in the cool shadow created by the horse. “Not seriously, anyway,” he added with a twitch of his lips. “Of course, if you are scared . . .”
“I’m just not used to being around horses. Especially not one as big as that . . . that Goliath.” I wanted to take him up on his challenge, but the thought of getting near Endy’s numerous, and probably very sharp, teeth or his clublike hooves made me want to crawl away like the coward I was around horses. Even small ones.
“Let me take that.” He took the basket, then gently nudged me toward the horse’s mouth.
Stuart’s arm went around me, his other hand forcing my own open so that the apple lay flat on my palm. “You do not want him to think your fingers are little carrots. Would not do to get him liking the taste of human blood.”
Darting a quick glance at him, I saw him biting his bottom lip, but he couldn’t hide the merriment in his blue eyes.
I stretched my hand out toward the gigantic head, trying to keep my body as far away as possible. The horse seemed to eye me speculatively, determining if I were friend or foe. Then he opened his mouth and took the proffered apple.
I expected to feel the grazing of teeth against the skin of my palm and was surprised with just the gentle touch of soft lips delicately picking up the apple.
The thick jaws worked back and forth, the loud crunching sounding like the crushing of bones. Small bits of apple and a great deal of slobber formed around the horse’s mouth, spraying me and the vicinity. Instead of spitting out the core, Endy swallowed the entire thing.
The big head then looked at me, as if waiting for another morsel. Determined not to be the next item on the menu, I looked to Stuart for help, and was astounded to feel a velvet-soft nose coupled with a few juicy apple bits nuzzling into my cheek. Thoroughly disgusted with the messy show of affection, I jumped backward, only to be stopped suddenly by the force of Stuart’s body, almost knocking him over. He reached around my waist to steady me and pulled softly on the reins in his other hand to ease the attentions of my equine suitor.
“See? Look at that. You have made a friend.” His arm remained around me, and when I tilted my head, I could see the little crinkles at the sides of his eyes as he laughed.
“Are you making fun of me?”
“Certainly not. Just admiring your bravery. And your appeal to males of all types.”
I turned to look at him, and he slowly dropped his arm. He stood very close as his smile faded, his gaze never wavering from my face.
Without moving back, he reached in his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. “You’ve got pieces of apple on your cheek.” He gently swiped at my face with the soft linen cloth. I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t have to look into his.
I opened them again when I realized he had stopped wiping but hadn’t moved back. The horse snorted to remind us of his presence, but neither one of us seemed to notice. We did, however, notice the small green projectile that suddenly sailed over our heads. Stuart’s battle savvy seemed to take over and he quickly forced me down to my haunches.
Before I could ask what was going on, Sarah and Willie emerged running from the side of the house, Willie in the lead. Another green missile landed on the ground in front of me. I reached to pick it up, rolling the hard, verdant bud in my palm.
“Damn!” said Stuart, plucking the object from my hand. “Begging your pardon,” he added absently, extending his hand to me to help me up.
“What is it?”
“It’s a cotton bud. They’re not supposed to be stripping my crop before they have bloomed.”
Realizing that it was perhaps my negligence that was causing the children to run wild, I grabbed my basket and hastened after them. “Don’t worry. I’ll talk to them.”
As I approached the rear of the chicken house, I narrowly missed being sideswiped by Willie as he dodged a small projectile.
“Willie, what do you think you’re doing?” I asked, picking up the errant missile.
Before he could answer, another torpedo shot through the air. I heard Sarah’s giggles before I saw her. She stopped when she spotted me, the avenging hen with arms akimbo.
“Children, stop it! How are we supposed to have a crop when there’s nothing left to pick? And, Sarah, don’t throw things at your brother. You might poke his eye out.” Approaching the unrepentant child, I added, “And shouldn’t you be practicing your piano?”
With a mumbled, “Yes, ma’am,” she walked slowly to the back door, trailing a line of cotton buds on the ground as they dropped from her opened fist. I spotted Willie out of the corner of my eye, trying to sneak off into the woods. “And you, too, young man. I’ll be in to check on your progress in half an hour.”
As Willie followed his sister into the house, I turned my head at the sound of hoofbeats and watched Stuart, tall in the saddle, riding out toward the fields. The foot of his injured leg was left out of the stirrup, his well-muscled thighs hugging the saddle. Strong hands held the reins, and I turned away, trying not to remember how they had felt when he touched my face.
With no one looking, I unbuttoned the top three buttons of my dress, pulled the fabric away from my damp skin, and blew inside, hoping to create the slightest cooling breeze. I closed my eyes tightly in a vain attempt to shut out the heat. I succeeded only in stinging my eyes with the salty sweat on my eyelids. Suddenly, an image of plunging into nearby Vickery Creek filled my imagination, and I immediately set off to fetch Willie and Sarah. Surely keeping the children out of Julia’s hair would be a big help.
After depositing the basket with Sukie in the kitchen, I walked to the back door. The sound of Sarah’s crying greeted me as I stood in the threshold. Hurrying to the parlor, I was horrified by what I saw.
An angry red handprint stained the side of Sarah’s face, creeping up her delicate skin like poison ivy.
She was crumpled on the floor, but her grandmother held her wrist tight. Willie sat on the piano bench, his shoulders hunched forward as if to make himself as small as possible.
Without thinking, I rushed to Sarah. “Did you hit her?” I knelt by Sarah and put my arm around her. She buried her head in my shoulder, muffling her sobs.
Pamela let go of Sarah’s arm. “This child must learn to respect her elders. I will not take any disrespect from a child.” Two bright spots of color appeared on her cheeks. “And how dare you speak that way to me. You both need to be taught some manners.”
I glared up at her. “I don’t know how you were raised, but I am quite sure that striking a child is a very ineffective way to teach her anything.”
Fuming and unable, or unwilling, to control the deep flush of anger that rose to her face, she hissed at me, “I do not know who you are or why you are here. But you are out of place in your interfering with the way I discipline my grandchildren.” Her hands shook with fury.
Sensing the children’s fear, I attempted to lighten the situation. “I think somebody’s grumpy and needs a nap.”
Sarah’s head snapped up to look at me, her eyes wide with surprise. Her look was echoed in her grandmother’s expression.
Pamela bent her face toward mine, her beady eyes narrowed. “Do not think that I do not know what you are up to. And you will not get away with it. Not while I am around.”
She walked out of the room, almost militant in her stride.
I brushed aside the tinge of fear that had begun to grow inside me and gave Sarah a hug, wiping her tears with the sleeve of my dress. “What did you say to her?”
Sniffling, Sarah explained, “She told me that I had no emotion for the music I was playing on the piano.” Pausing to hiccup, she continued. “And I told her she was wrong.”
I was unable to see the error in Sarah’s reasoning and unsure of how I should approach the situation. Wiping the damp tendrils of hair off her forehead, I whispered conspiratorially, “Well, you were right. But perhaps next time, you should just agree with your grandmother. After all, it’s apparent that she appreciates music as much as a rock would.”
I was rewarded with a small smile. Then I added, “How about a swim?”
A loud whoop from Willie was a clear answer for both of them.
We took the same path that led to Zeke’s cabin, but turned at a different fork in the trail, hoping that Willie really did know where he was. I welcomed the cool shade of the tall pines and longed for the water of the creek.
The children immediately stripped to their undergarments and stood on the edge, their bare toes wiggling among the stray strands of grass and rocks. Where we were, the creek was neither wide nor deep, but it filled our criteria of being wet and cool. With a nod from me, their gleeful cries filled the air as they flung their young bodies into the refreshing wetness.
My first impulse was to strip down to my chemise, but I hesitated. I was sure the children wouldn’t have noticed, but I didn’t want to be discovered by someone else standing in the middle of the creek, in nothing but a sheer piece of wet cotton. Resignedly, I pulled off my ankle boots and peeled down my stockings. Glancing around to make sure no one was lurking, I hoisted my skirts above the knees and sighed loudly as I waded into the stream.
The children splashed me in their exuberance, but I declined to chastise them. The spattering of water droplets on my face was too refreshing. I eyed the children enviously, their bare arms and legs glinting in the sunlight. Sweat still poured down my face, so I scooped a handful of the moving water and splashed it over my head.
The whinnying of a horse jerked me upright. I dropped my skirts in the water as I hastily turned around. I eyed my soaking clothing with dismay and quickly picked my skirts up again as I waded back to the shore. Charlie bolted past me and landed with a loud splash, his presence greeted with happy squeals from the children.
I faced Stuart as he gingerly dismounted from Endy. “Not to sound discourteous, but what are you doing here? Making sure I don’t bolt?” I wiped a stray water drop off the tip of my nose. “I hate to tell you this, but the only covert activity I’m guilty of is trying to cool off in this creek without showing too much skin.”
Raising his eyebrows slightly, Stuart replied, “I was paying a visit to Zeke. I have not seen him since Julia’s mother arrived. But I heard all this caterwauling and I came to see what had got caught in a trap.” He loosely tethered Endy to a tree and walked over to where I stood dripping.
“I thought the children could use a nice respite from the heat.” I picked up the edge of my hem and squeezed it tightly, the water droplets scattering dust as they fell.
“The children, hmm?”
“Oh, all right. I was about to melt. And I’d just about give my left arm to be able to take off these clothes and go for a swim.”
He looked as if he couldn’t decide whether to be shocked or amused. “I see.” He sat upon a large rock at the edge of the stream and began to remove his boots. “As much as I might enjoy the spectacle, I would not recommend it. You would scandalize the town.”
He was struggling with the boot on his injured leg so I went over to help him. He held up his hand to stop me. “Laura, that is really not proper. . . .”
“Stuart, you need help. Believe me, bare feet have never gotten anybody into trouble.”
His eyes widened, but he wordlessly handed me his foot and I pulled off the boot. He winced slightly but nodded his thanks as he pulled off his socks.
I waved my hand in front of my face. “Well, the sight isn’t scandalizing me, but the smell sure is. Is that a secret weapon to kill more Yankees than a single bullet?”
Leaning back, he shook his head and laughed. “You know, Laura, I can always depend on you to say what is on your mind. A rare but admirable trait.”
“Thank you. I think.” I carefully picked my way back into the water and found a seat on a partially submerged tree trunk.
Sobering slightly, he said, “Why such a mystery, Laura? What is so dangerous that you have to keep it hidden?”
I didn’t dare look at him. Staring down at the bright reflection of the water, I shrugged. “I hit my head, remember? I don’t recall much more about my past life than you don’t already know.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment. “You must think me quite stupid.”
“No, I don’t. And if I’ve kept anything from you, it’s merely self-preservation. You have nothing to fear from me.”
A welcome interruption came in the form of Charlie bounding through the water toward me, inviting me to play. Grasping hold of the bottom of my skirt, he began tugging.
“Charlie, stop it! I can’t go in. Willie! Sarah! Please come get Charlie and make him stop.” I wrinkled my nose at the smell of wet dog as I vainly tried to remove my dress from Charlie’s clutches.
I stood, prepared to retreat to the safety of the water line, when I found footing on a deceptively slippery rock. One moment I was standing; the next I was sitting on my backside, partially immersed in the water.
Once I had recovered from the shock, I politely refused all offers of help in righting myself. Instead, I lay back in my impromptu bath, allowing the water to wash over my face.
I sat up and shouted, “Oh, that feels wonderful! I wish I had thought of that to begin with.” And then I promptly lay back again, feeling my hair move with the soft current.
Opening my eyes under the water, I was surprised to see two dark, wavy figures on the bank. I immediately sat up and was relieved to see Zeke with Stuart.
“Hi, Zeke!” I called out, waving my hand and creating an arc of water, and acting as if sitting fully dressed in the middle of a creek was something I did all the time.
He raised his hand in greeting, his face stoic but a corner of his mouth twitching.
I stood and slogged my way over to the
bank, my skirts heavy. I did my best to squeeze the excess water out of my hair and dress but felt confident that the burning sun would efficiently do the rest.
I blinked at the two men as a water droplet from my hair plopped into my eyes.
Zeke nodded silently at me. Turning to Stuart, he said, “Julia’s mother has come. The dark cloud over your house has told me this.”
I looked in the direction of the house and saw only clear sky.
“Yes, she is here. And she has brought word of William. He has been assigned to General Sherman’s staff in Nashville.”
Zeke grunted. “That is not far enough. Does he know you are here?”
Stuart shook his head. “Not as far as I know. We have had no contact with him for almost a year. Unless Julia mentioned it to her mother in a letter and Pamela told him.”
Zeke shook his head. “Then he knows. You should leave as soon as you can.”
His words made me start. I knew Stuart was a soldier, but it had never occurred to me that he might actually leave and go back to war so soon.
Stuart’s fists tightened at his side. “Am I the only one around here who has doubts that the Yankees could ever come this far?”
Zeke looked at Stuart, his eyes steady. “You are no fool. And you know as well as I do that a well-supplied Yankee army that easily outnumbers Confederates could do as they please with little consequential opposition.”
Stuart sat down and began pulling on socks and boots. Brusquely waving aside my offer of help, he yanked them on, oblivious to the pain it caused his injured leg. “I need to get back, regardless of my leg. I am so useless here.”
“I wouldn’t call holding this family and plantation together useless.” I had no thought as to why I felt a sudden panic at the thought of him leaving.
“My regiment is fighting for their country, and I am here, living as if the war is not even happening.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not like you chose to be shot in the leg, for goodness’ sake. And what good do you think you’d be to your men right now? Would you expect them to carry you in a battle because your leg won’t let you keep up?”
