I Have Seen Him in the Watchfires

by Cathy Gohlke

  I’d have to trust the general. It sounded as though Pa had. I couldn’t help but wonder if Pa’d known what Gen. Sherman would do with those maps once he’d drawn them. I wondered if Pa knew Sherman’s plans to burn his way from Atlanta to Savannah, if he’d understood Sherman’s idea of making war brutal on a civilian population. None of that sounded like things Pa would support. But it was war, and he’d drawn those maps for a Union general. I knew from all Pa’d told me about the military that a soldier only knows what he’s ordered, what is in front of him. That is what he answers to, and he must answer straight.

  I sure would’ve liked to talk with Pa, to see him. I prayed he was all right, that he’d come home safe.

  When we woke the next morning the escort detail was already saddling up. The captain never spoke but tipped his hat to Emily as he led the detail and nearly empty supply wagon away.

  It was a relief to see them go. We took extra time before pulling out that morning. The children breathed easier, were less quarrelsome, and Henry begged to ride shotgun with me. Nanny Sara couldn’t last long, and Ruby wanted to make her as comfortable as she could. We took the roads slow and easy, for Nanny Sara’s sake, and because Emily and Ruby and the older children took turns walking to lighten the load, especially as we reached the foothills. Only Ma refused to walk.

  Late that morning we knew Nanny Sara teetered near her end. We left the road and pulled beneath the bare branches of an old oak tree, sheltered from the wind by a stand of pines. It seemed a little like a church, and I hoped Nanny Sara thought so. I wondered if she’d ever set foot in a church. Grandfather Ashton had not seen to his slaves’ spiritual needs any more than to their bodily needs or safety. I wondered how she’d come to the Lord, found such comfort in the Word, how she’d learned so many passages by heart.

  “My daughter. My precious daughter,” Nanny Sara’s last words, last look, were for Ruby. Her eyes slipped closed. The labored rise and fall of her chest stopped. For all we’d known for days and days it was bound to happen, it seemed too quick, too sudden an end.

  Ruby’s tears gave way. She held Nanny Sara’s hands as long as there was any warmth in them, and I heard her long, whispered prayer, talking to Jesus, who must have been her longtime best friend, too. “Thank You, Lord Jesus! Thank You for bringing my mama to me, for all the days and weeks we’ve had to get reacquainted, for all the love we’ve shared. Thank You, Lord Jesus, for keeping death away so long that she knows her wishes will be tended to, that…” Ruby went on and on, but I stepped away, knowing I was eavesdropping on a lovers’ talk.

  I sat near the edge of the small grove of trees, wiped the moisture from my eyes, thanked God for Nanny Sara’s love and wisdom, for all she meant to this family all her life long.

  “I never thought Nanny Sara would die.” It was Ma, standing behind me. “She was there when I was born, there when Mama died, there all the days of my life till I married your father.”

  I turned to look up at her. Ma’s face looked sad, but serene in a way I’d not seen. She spread her skirt and sat on the grass beside me. “Ma?” I said, afraid to break the spell.

  She looked at me like that was a perfectly normal thing to say. “What is it, Son?”

  I swallowed, not knowing what I wanted—just that I wanted her—wanted my mother to be my mother, stay my mother. “Nanny Sara said she wanted to be buried in the slave cemetery at Ashland.” It was all I could think to say.

  Ma nodded. “I know she made you promise that.” Ma shook her head. “Though I suppose she has every right to be buried in the family plot.”

  “She was part of your family.” I tried to agree with her, to understand Ma’s unlikely generosity.

  She snorted softly. “You mean Papa’s, before he married Mama.”

  Now I didn’t understand, and I guess Ma read that in my face.

  “Oh, Robert. We all knew. Papa never said and Mama tried to keep it from me. But Ruby is my half sister as surely as her son was my half brother.” Ma stared into the distance. What was she saying? “They thought I didn’t know, but Ruby was too like me not to notice.” Ma ripped up dead grass and tossed it absently. “Papa was a naughty thing in those days, but I guess it was his right.”

  I couldn’t answer. What could I say—my dead grandfather was more despicable than I’d known? I was wrestling with that when Ma spoke again. “So you bury her in a nice spot. Make sure she has some shade.” She waited for me to speak.

  “Yes, ma’am,” was all I could say. Ma nodded, as if that was taken care of, and stood.

  “I’ll tell Papa. I’ll be the one to break the news to him. He will surely miss her biscuits.” Ma turned to walk away, and I could only stare after her, too flummoxed to talk. Then Ma half turned, and I saw the tears on her cheek. “I’ll miss her, too. Ashland won’t be the same without Nanny Sara.”

  I waited another hour or so before going back to the wagon. Ruby had wrapped her mother in a soft quilt, the best we’d brought, and laid small pine swags around her. Emily stood by Ruby, just stood there, comforting her with her nearness. The children sat, tired from their walk, in a solemn ring. Ruby handed me the Book, asked me to read Psalm 23. I kept my voice as steady as I could, but I kept remembering that first time Nanny Sara asked for this reading, while I forced Grandfather’s face from my memory.

  “Let’s us go on, now.” Ruby voiced the decision none of us could make. “We’ve got to get Mama home to her resting place. We promised her.”

  That helped. We all had something to do, something to do for Nanny Sara.

  “I’ll ride beside my son now,” Ma said, just as though we’d been taking turns all along.

  “Of course, Cousin Caroline,” Emily said, pulling Henry back, just as surprised as I was.

  Ma chattered for the next hour as though we’d been talking all along. “You will need to see to the planting, Robert. Your father will need your help.” It was the first time she’d mentioned Pa, and I couldn’t but hope there was some piercing to her darkness. Then she began to pick at her skirt. “I know I’ve not always been the best mother to you, Robert.”

  “Ma—”

  “Let me finish,” she ordered. “Life does not always turn out as we expect when we’re young. Sometimes in youth, in passion, we make rash decisions. Sometimes we are unable to live with those decisions.” Did she mean marrying Pa, bearing me? “But that is no reason not to live up to our responsibilities. I just want you to know that I see many things more clearly now.” She smoothed her skirt. “I’ll not have Nanny Sara, but we’ll have Ruby, and we’ll get by.”

  “Ma, Ruby might have other plans.”

  “Plans?”

  “Plans to get to her son, to Jeremiah.”

  “Oh, that. Well, I’m sure Papa will let him come back if he’ll behave himself.”

  My heart sank to my boots and my head swelled, pounded. I couldn’t sort Ma’s fancy from her facts. I wondered if anything she’d said to me that day was true—about Nanny Sara and Grandfather, about her being a better mother, about Pa.

  We rode on, no longer needing Gen. Sherman’s map for this leg of the trip. Emily recognized the road and knew her way. We passed houses, but if anybody lived in them they kept to themselves. Families on the road were a common sight. Nobody had food to share, and neighborliness was not what it was before the war. It was just as well. We needed to get Nanny Sara’s body in the ground. Emily figured we’d reach Ashland and Mitchell House late the next day.

  “I can’t wait,” Ma said. “I’ve had more than enough of this wagon, this dirt.”

  “I think we all have,” Emily said, pulling the twins onto her lap.

  “How are you doing, Ruby?” I asked. She’d not said much since she’d wrapped Nanny Sara tight in her quilt.

  Ruby sighed. “We’ve got to get Mama in the ground. That’s all.”

  It had to vex her that the children giggled, crawled, and kicked one another all around her ma’s body. But we couldn’t keep them still every
minute.

  That night we stopped by a stream, built a fire, roasted the last of our corn and potatoes. I let Stargazer drink his fill, brushed him till we’d both had enough, and set him to graze. Emily and Ruby bedded down the children, then sat again by the fire. I stirred the embers.

  “Emily, what about the children?” I waited while she stared into the flames. “Our food is gone. I’m thinking we’ll reach Ashland and Mitchell House tomorrow, but I don’t think Noah and Mamee have anything to spare.”

  “We’ll manage,” Emily snapped, then pushed her hair back and sighed. “When Henry first came knocking on Aunt Charlotte’s door he was all alone and starving. It took days for him to tell me that his mother set him down by the road one day, that she never got up again. Even when he told us, it was a long time before we understood that she couldn’t, that she’d died there.” She sighed again. “I couldn’t turn him away.”

  “Next we knew, children were left on our doorstep. We don’t even know who their parents are—or who they were,” Ruby said, turning a worried face to Emily.

  Emily covered her face with her hands, then looked up, trying to blink the weariness away. “There are thousands of displaced families—starving women and children, old folks and freed slaves—all with no place to go and nothing to eat.” Emily straightened, defending herself. “I couldn’t leave them to Gen. Sherman and his men.”

  I covered her hand with mine. I needed, deserved no explanation. I hope I’d have done the same, and loved Emily that she did the thing that needed doing. Still, starvation painted an ugly picture, and I didn’t know how to change the colors.

  “There’ll be catfish in the Yadkin. I remember that,” offered Ruby.

  “That’s right.” I remembered too. “There are seines at Ashland and Mitchell House both, or there were. I always caught a good string with a pole. We won’t starve.”

  “There’s the gold in our buttons,” Emily reminded me. “If there’s food to be had we can still buy some.” Her eyes brightened. “Thank God Aunt Charlotte didn’t put her money into Confederate bonds.”

  “She paid for that—for not doing that,” vowed Ruby. “Her neighbors looked mighty hard on her for not putting her gold into the Cause.”

  “Then I’ll not feel bad to have it,” said Emily. “It was dearly bought.”

  “Water under the bridge, Miss Emily. Miss Charlotte would be proud—you taking these children.” Ruby stood, and her voice turned sad. “It’s the future that’s so uncertain, for all of us … I guess the past and the future get so balled up sometimes it’s hard to keep one from the other.”

  “Ruby?” Emily looked up. “You know you’ll always have a home with me—wherever that is.”

  Ruby didn’t answer but brushed her skirt and walked off into the night. Emily frowned, concerned, but then Lizzie called for her.

  I knew what ailed Ruby. Sometimes it ailed me too. It was hard to explain to anybody who’d not walked under Grandfather’s power. I said goodnight to Emily, waited half a minute, then followed Ruby’s trail.

  “Ruby?” She stopped. “I just want you to know I’ll do all I can to get you to Jeremiah. We’ll go North soon as we can. It’ll just take some time.” And then I said the thing I most wanted her to understand. “I know going back to Ashland can’t be easy for you.”

  She didn’t answer, and since I’d said all I needed to say, I turned to go.

  “Robert.”

  “Yes, Ruby?”

  “I’m glad that old man is dead.”

  I nodded to the darkness, picturing Grandfather’s face, his hands. “I’m glad, too, Ruby.”

  Thirty-Five

  It was dusk when we pulled onto the road leading to Mitchell House and Ashland.

  “Papa must be beside himself!” Ma clapped her hands like a child. “He’ll wonder we’ve been gone so very long.”

  “I think we’ll stop at Mitchell House tonight, Cousin Caroline,” Emily cut in. “Mamee will have rooms ready, and we all need a good night’s rest. You can help me get the children to bed.”

  “But I want to go home to Ashland! I want to go home now!” Ma pouted.

  “We’ll talk about it tomorrow, Ma.” I rested my hand on hers.

  “Tomorrow?” Ma acted as though I’d slapped her.

  “We’ve got to bury Nanny Sara. That’s the first thing we’ll do in the morning.” I tried to sound firm, like it was long decided.

  “Who?” Ma puzzled.

  “Nanny Sara,” Emily insisted, losing patience.

  “Oh,” Ma said. “Yes, I suppose. But Papa will be vexed if we delay.”

  I sighed, turning Stargazer down the lane toward Mitchell House. I couldn’t conjure how the next few days would play out.

  A lone lamp shone through the window of Cousin Albert’s study. Emily reached for my arm. I knew she ached for her father, the father she’d known all her life before the war. I was thankful that was all she knew.

  Noah and Mamee, surprised and glad and fearful as they were to see us, made each one welcome. They marveled over Ruby’s homecoming and grieved over Nanny Sara’s passing. They rejoiced that Emily was restored safe to them, then delighted and feared over the six hungry, dark, saucer-eyed children. They did all they could to distract and settle Ma, who seemed not to notice anything amiss from her world.

  “There’s something you should know about Ashland,” Noah began. Ma’s ear perked.

  “Not now, Noah,” Emily warned. “Whatever it is can wait till morning. We’re all done in.”

  “But you should know—” Noah tried again.

  “What about Ashland? Speak up!” Ma demanded.

  Noah looked uncertain.

  “Tomorrow, Noah,” Emily insisted, guiding Ma, who fussed a mile a minute, firmly up the stairs. “Tell us everything tomorrow.”

  I retreated, like a coward, to the stable, where I brushed Stargazer till the house lights dimmed.

  Thirty-Six

  It was dark when I woke. Not even the birds were awake or singing their morning call. I reached for my boots and pants, then crept down the hall. I stopped at Ma’s door, pushed it open just a crack, and pressed my ear close to listen. The fluttered whisper of her sleep came through. I breathed easier.

  Down the stairs and out the door, I pulled on my boots and wrapped my jacket tight around me. A fierce March wind had blown up during the night.

  I figured to go to Ashland’s slave cemetery and dig Nanny Sara’s grave before the others woke. Ruby’d told me about a pine tree that Nanny Sara’d loved, where to dig if there was room for a grave there. I meant to have it ready for whatever service she wanted. I also figured I’d best be handy when Ma roused. I didn’t know how she’d manage once she realized all over again that Grandfather was dead. What other memories might that trigger? How could we contain her?

  Digging helped, the pushing, pulling, hefting. My hands nearly froze, and I wished mightily for gloves. It was only March, the air carried a bite, and the Carolina clay gave way only because it had to. I was less than halfway down. The morning light filtered through the trees as Ruby showed up, shovel in tow.

  “That’s the way I met you.” I smiled.

  “Don’t you worry. I won’t be using this one on you, Mista Robert. I appreciate all you doin’ for Mama.”

  “Nanny Sara was one of the best people I’ve ever known, Ruby. I’m proud to do whatever I can by her.”

  “That makes two of us. Let’s dig this grave.” And we did. Together we dug it deep, and the deeper we went the less the wind ripped at us. We’d finished by the time the sun, shooting in and out between clouds, rode high over our heads. We found a slate to set at its head till we could carve a proper marker. Noah’d said he wanted to do that for Nanny Sara.

  Ruby pushed windblown tendrils of hair from her eyes and looked around at the other graves. She walked among the markers, reading the few pine-carved and slate-scratched names out loud, saying who she remembered, who she’d not known.

  “Y
ou read real well.” Not many slaves could read, and I wondered how she’d learned.

  “Miss Charlotte taught me.” Ruby sat on dried needles behind the shelter of Nanny Sara’s pine. “Miss Charlotte was the best white woman I ever knew, besides Miss Lydia.”

  Miss Lydia was Grandmother Ashton. “I never knew her.”

  “You missed out. Miss Lydia a fine lady, a good heart, even though her husband’s ways sometimes shamed her.” Ruby turned away. “I apologize, Mista Robert. Sometimes I forget he was your grandfather. You’re not much like him.”

  “I knew my Grandfather for what he was, Ruby. You don’t need to apologize. And don’t call me ‘Mister’—please.”

  She smiled. “All right, then.”

  I wondered how such a fine woman got tangled in with Grandfather. My wonders must have been written on my face.

  “Masta Marcus was a weak man, a selfish man, but he didn’t seem such a bad man till Miz Lydia died. When he lost her he lost everything that held him back from ugly.” Ruby closed her eyes. “I guess I don’t have to tell you. Mama said you know.”

  I sat across from her. “I know about you helping Ma and Pa elope. I know about Grandfather taking you—” I looked away, not wanting to finish, not able to look in her eyes. “I know about Jeremiah, and that Grandfather sent you away.”

  “I never saw my mama or my baby again.” Ruby wrapped her arms tight around herself.

  “How did you end up with Grandaunt Charlotte?”

  Ruby looked up. “It was because of Miz Grace, Masta Marcus’s older sister. Miz Grace was the mistress of Mitchell House, Miz Emily’s grandmother. When Masta Marcus vowed to sell me off, Miz Grace said she knew just the buyer. Masta Marcus didn’t care, didn’t want the money. His only concern was that he never set eyes on me again. Miz Grace assured him I’d be sent so far South he’d never hear my name.” Ruby looked away, shivered. “Miz Grace protected me, all she could. She sent me to her younger sister—her black sheep sister—Miz Charlotte, in South Carolina.”