The Pledge, Value

by Jane Peart

  That evening she got out her neglected pledge quilt squares and sewed diligently. Tears fell on the cloth as she sewed, and at times blurred her eyes so that she couldn’t stitch properly. Finally, exhausted, she prepared for bed. Hopefully, after a good night’s sleep everything would seem clearer. But sleep refused to come. Obsessively her thoughts kept returning to the scene on the train station platform, and Curtis’s good-bye.

  Chapter Thirteen

  All the following week, the hints, the innuendoes, and the inferences from both Aunt Josie and Uncle Madison began to mount. JoBeth assumed that Curtis’s supposed proposal had been circulated among the close-knit family. She was sure the consensus was that she had best not summarily dismiss the courting of such a gallant young man. It was as if the combined family were holding its breath and waiting for her to make the announcement.

  JoBeth simmered under the covert glances sent her way. She could just imagine the discussions about her that were going on within the family circle. While they held an idealized image of Curtis, they seemed to have forgotten all Wes’s fine, brave qualities—his integrity, his courage. What hurt her the most was the fact that Wes had grown up in this town. They had known him since he was a little boy. They knew his parents as friends. Wes had often been a guest in all their homes, and now they had all turned against him in favor of someone they had just met. And only because Curtis wore the right uniform! Finally JoBeth reached the end of her tether. She went to her mother and told her about Curtis’s proposal.

  “Of course, I told him I was pledged to another. I don’t see why Aunt Josie and Uncle Madison presume I could forget Wes like that.” JoBeth snapped her fingers. “They want me to be engaged to someone like Curtis, for their own sakes. So they won’t be embarrassed any longer by a niece promised to a Yankee sympathizer. I don’t think they even realize that Wes has joined the Union Army!” She got up from the chair on which she had been perched near her mother’s quilting frame and began to pace. “No matter what they want, I am in love with Wes, pledged to him! Nothing or no one, no matter how charming or attractive or eligible in their opinion, will change that. I wish they’d stop insinuating otherwise.”

  “Do you want me to speak to them, darling?” Johanna asked sympathetically.

  “Would you, Mama? Please? I’m afraid I’d just get defensive and get into an argument.” JoBeth sighed. “I love Aunt Josie and Uncle Madison. I don’t want this to cause any more misunderstanding.”

  Since Wes’s departure, there had been an unspoken rule in the Cady household never to mention him. It was a rule that no one had yet disobeyed.

  That evening at dinner, JoBeth guessed that her mother had broken the rule. Her aunt and uncle’s attitude spoke volumes. There was an unnatural stiffness in their very postures. JoBeth could not only feel the disapproval but see it in her uncle’s face. Aunt Cady regarded her with hardly concealed impatience, her mouth pressed as though she were trying to keep from speaking her mind about JoBeth’s stubborn and distressing stand.

  Uncle Madison never could keep from expressing himself on any subject for long, and before the meal was half over, he addressed himself directly to JoBeth.

  “I understand you turned Curtis Channing down, young lady.” Uncle Madison’s tone was bitter, implying that he was a man who felt he had been greatly wronged. “In my opinion, that was a very rash and unwise decision. You would do well to reconsider that refusal. A finer specimen of an upstanding Southern gentleman it has not been my pleasure to meet. And from what Blakely tells me, a fine officer as well, admired by his comrades and well-thought-of by his superiors. I understand he will probably make captain before long—you should be proud that such a man has asked you to be his wife.”

  It was too much. After all, Wes had been welcome here since he was a little boy. He had sat at this very dinner table, had brought flowers and his gracious manners to her aunt and mother. Yet now he had become anathema, as though he had never even existed.

  “Yes, indeed.” Uncle Madison was waxing eloquent as to Curtis’s qualities. “That young man is certainly an outstanding example of what is best in a Confederate officer—”

  But this time he got no further. JoBeth could stand no more, and she turned furiously toward her uncle and interrupted, “Curtis Channing doesn’t have the remotest idea what the war is all about—or even what he’s fighting for.”

  At first, Uncle Madison looked stunned at this startling outburst.

  Then his face reddened and he banged his fist on the table. “Well, he damn well knows what’s the right side to be fighting for!”

  At this, tears threatening, JoBeth flung down her napkin and jumped up from the table and ran from the room.

  JoBeth’s outburst at the dinner table that night ushered in a dreadful period of strained relations with her aunt and uncle. Uncle Madison maintained a dignified silence as he came and went, and he kept his contact with his niece to a minimum. Aunt Josie fluttered between her husband and niece, begging them both to relent and resume their former affectionate relationship.

  Both were stubborn. At last Johanna intervened with her daughter, saying it was she who should apologize. Uncle Madison had been like a father to her all these years, she reminded JoBeth, and she should honor and respect him, no matter their differences. JoBeth, knowing she had been wrong to react as she did, finally yielded. She went to her uncle one evening, upon his return from his office, and asked his forgiveness. Wes was not mentioned.

  “We’ll say no more about it, my dear,” was Uncle Madison’s stiff rejoinder. After that the household seemed to regain its balance. However, under the surface, all knew that things might never be the same again.

  Part Three

  Spring 1863

  Chapter Fourteen

  Three letters from Wes, all looking “battle scarred,” arrived for JoBeth at the same time. One touched her deeply but filled her with a feeling of apprehension. There was something about it that sounded so final, as though it might be the last time she would ever hear from Wes.

  Lying here on my cot in the tent on this dark night, my dreams are filled with visions of your dear face. Even though now it seems endless, I know our separation must someday end. And we will find our love and happiness again. I take your letters out and press them to my lips—it seems your perfume still clings to the pages, and I am most aware of the sweetness of your memory, the scent of your skin, your hair. How I long to hold you once more. Pray God it will not be too long until that happy day comes.

  Ever yours,

  Wes

  The letters had no dates, so JoBeth could not be sure when Wes had written them or where he might possibly have been at the time.

  Long march today, feet aching, legs weary, shoulder burdened with heavy pack. All made light, easy, because I let my mind wander to thoughts of you—the bright days of summers we knew…

  I had a terrible dream. I woke feeling suddenly desolate. I dreamed I could not remember your lovely face. How could this be? At night when I lie awake waiting for sleep to come, your beautiful eyes appear, smiling, and gradually your image comes to comfort me. I think sometimes I can even hear your voice.

  I do think of you as my bride. Then I consider the price I’ve asked you to pay. My love for a life of sorrow? Alienation from your family, from those you hold near and dear? This cruel war that has parted us, that has sent me away from you. For what? For home and country? I have left the only home I’ve known, my land, my people. I am an orphan, in truth. Except for your love, my dearest—that is all that holds me staunch. And I believe our cause to be a just one.

  Spring brought the war even closer. With the battle at Chancellorsville in May, the Confederates won a remarkable but costly victory against the Union Army. The losses were heavy, something that the Southern forces, with less manpower, could not easily bear. Worse still was the tragic death of General Lee’s right-hand man, accidentally shot by his own pickets.

  At the news of Stonewall Jackson’s death, fla
gs were flown at half-mast in Hillsboro. Some even wore black armbands, like Wayne Spencer, whose sons had fought under the brilliant general. Still, the success of Lee’s army lifted spirits and gave a renewed hope that the Confederacy would eventually be victorious.

  A letter from Wes came, and JoBeth sensed a difference in tone from the previous ones. There was a sense of fatalism about it that frightened her.

  June 1863

  My Dearest,

  In the silence around this encampment, the tension is almost alive. We expect attack or some action anytime…. We know the Confeds are somewhere camped in the hills just beyond the ridge. We speak of the enemy, but all I can think is that these are my former playmates, my classmates, my fellow college students, my brothers…. Are we not all God’s children? This horrible conflict must soon be resolved. Oh, JoBeth, I can close my eyes and see your dear face, see your sweet smile, the dark, silky curls falling on your shoulders, hear your tender voice. I remember the words we spoke, and they echo in my despairing heart. Will they ever be said again? When I finally drift off to sleep, when I wake, your name is on my lips.

  No more letters came for three more weeks. Anxiety about Wes was JoBeth’s constant companion. Yet she could share it with no one.

  It was in July, however, that the tide of the war was about to turn dramatically. Ironically, it would happen on the national anniversary celebration of American independence.

  Hillsboro on the first day of July was blistering, not a breath of air stirring. The ladies were out on the Cadys’ front porch, waiting for Uncle Madison to come home for noon dinner. JoBeth was sitting on the steps, and her mother and aunt were in rocking chairs, fluttering palmetto fans and discussing a new quilt pattern. All of a sudden Aunt Josie sat up straight, exclaiming in alarm, “Will you look at that! Walking so fast in this heat, he’s liable to get a stroke. Madison ought to know better.”

  JoBeth turned to see her uncle striding briskly down the sidewalk toward the house.

  Aunt Josie got to her feet and went to the porch railing, ready to rebuke her husband the minute he came through the gate. But something in his expression stopped her. He came puffing up the steps, mopping his red face with his handkerchief as he said breathlessly, “News has just come over the telegraph wires. A great battle is underway near a small Pennsylvania town called Gettysburg. And we’re winning! Surely now Lee will bring about a glorious victory—whip those Yankees once and for all.”

  A worried Aunt Josie urged him to sit down and rest a bit while she brought him a glass of iced tea. He did, under protest, and eventually he caught his breath, and they all went into the house for a delayed meal. However, Uncle Madison could hardly eat a bite and left without taking his usual short nap. He wanted to return to his office downtown to be close to the telegraph office, where further bulletins would be posted as soon as received.

  Soon after he departed, Aunt Josie put on her bonnet, saying she thought she’d go over to Dorinda’s. Munroe’s wife was expecting a new baby, she said, and it might be well for someone to be with her, in case … She left the sentence dangling, but Johanna and JoBeth knew the fearful thought she had left unspoken. Both Harvel and Munroe were with Lee’s army and probably in the midst of the battle now raging. And was Wes too? JoBeth wondered. She had to keep her dread question to herself.

  That night at the supper table, Uncle Madison was still in an excited, optimistic frame of mind.

  “Lee’s invincible! Everyone says so. Harvel told me at Christmas that even the Union generals agree he is a military genius. This could be the turning point!” He slapped his hands together in obvious anticipation of victory.

  Suddenly the tension that had been building inside her over the past weeks and months came to the surface, and JoBeth turned to him tearfully. “Men and boys are dying, uncle! Being killed! On both sides in this awful war, don’t you know? There’s nothing to feel good about!”

  She shook off her mother’s restraining hand and continued to face her uncle, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  Uncle Madison visibly paled. He stared at her.

  “You forget yourself, young lady,” he said in a trembling voice. “I have two sons most probably in the thick of it. But they are fighting for a cause that affects us all—you, your safety, our life here even this far from it—I never forget that.”

  “JoBeth, dear, please.” Her mother’s gentle reproach went unheeded.

  “And so is Wes fighting for what he believes. No one here, in this family, gives him credit for that. Except me. I love him! And he may be dying or being killed this minute, and nobody cares—” Her voice cracked hoarsely, and JoBeth ran sobbing from the room.

  When JoBeth woke up, she knew it was late. The house was silent. There was not a sound of movement downstairs or in the hallway outside her bedroom door. Had they all gone to church without calling her? She knew that her mother thought she was ill last night and had made excuses for her to the others. Why else the outburst, the tears?

  She remembered running upstairs the night before, throwing herself down on her bed, weeping uncontrollably. She vaguely recalled falling into an exhausted sleep and her mother coming in later, placing a cloth, dampened with cologne, on her burning forehead, drawing her quilt gently over her shoulders, tiptoeing out again.

  How long had she slept? Was the battle at Gettysburg over?

  Who had won? Was Wes still alive? Or was he dead—had he made the ultimate sacrifice for his beliefs? A vivid picture of him lying, bloody, broken, in some forsaken place flashed before her. The image pierced her like a bayonet. Oh, God, I hope it has all been worth it! New tears rolled down her cheeks and into her mouth, and she tasted the hot saltiness on her lips.

  She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow, wishing she could go to sleep again and not wake up until the war was over.

  For three hot, humid, miserable days, people clustered around the telegraph office of the Hillsboro train station, awaiting the latest news of the battle being so fiercely waged.

  Gettysburg—few had even heard the name, but afterward few would ever forget it.

  August 1863

  Chapter Fifteen

  My Darling JoBeth,

  Such wonderful news, I can hardly contain myself as I write. I have been reassigned. My captain discovered my educational background—that I could read, understand Latin, and had read law. He called me into his tent and said I was wasted as a foot soldier and would be of more value to the Union as an aide-de-camp or secretary to a commander. He gave me a field promotion to officer, and I am to go to Washington and await assignment.

  This means that we can soon be reunited. As an officer assigned to a noncombatant status, posted in Washington (possibly at the war department), I will be able to send for you. I will arrange papers of passage as soon as I am settled. We can be married at last. I will, of course, keep you informed and send details. I love you, long for you, want to spend the rest of my life with you. God be praised that this has been brought about.

  Ever your devoted,

  Wes

  After receiving this letter from Wes, JoBeth had to take her mother into full confidence. Both mother and daughter wept, knowing that this would mean an inevitable separation that both of them dreaded.

  “Mama, you must help me get to Wes.” JoBeth clutched Wes’s letter to her breast.

  Johanna gazed at her daughter and saw reflected in her eyes an intensity she recognized. She was no longer a little girl, someone to be told what she could or should do. She was a woman in love and determined to follow that love through, wherever it led.

  “You will help us, won’t you?” JoBeth pleaded.

  “I’ll do whatever I can,” Johanna promised.

  The next week, another letter from Wes brought a new urgency.

  It would be too dangerous for him to come to Hillsboro, where he was so well-known, so a meeting place had to be decided upon. Richmond seemed the most logical place, being closer to Washington. It would be easier
to slip across the guarded border there. Richmond was also the capital of the Confederacy. Careful arrangements must be made. No one must know of their plans. Secrecy insured Wes’s safety.

  Even though they were both convinced of the necessity, Johanna and JoBeth quailed at the duplicity this would involve. Especially the idea of keeping it secret from the Cadys, who had given them a loving home all these years.

  Johanna wrote to Amelia Brooke, who had been her closest friend when they both attended Miss Pomoroy’s Academy as girls and who now lived in Richmond. They had kept in touch all these years. Without going into details, Johanna asked if she would allow JoBeth to stay in their home until her fiance could get the necessary travel pass to cross the line from Washington.

  Many Southerners had been “stranded” away from home when the war broke out and travel became restricted. So it was not an unusual situation. Johanna did say they planned to be married and that JoBeth would remain up north until the war was over.

  They waited anxiously for a reply. It was not too long coming. Amelia wrote she would be more than happy to have her friend’s daughter as a house guest. In the same letter, Amelia gave them other information that was rather disquieting. Amelia’s husband was now a high-ranking Confederate officer on President Jefferson Davis’s staff. She went on, saying, “Needless to say, we are often hosts to a number of young officers far from home and on leave from their duties, so I believe JoBeth will find our household one that is lively and merry in spite of this dreadful war. Jacob and I are both looking forward to welcoming your daughter.”