Promise of Time

by Moore, S. Dionne

  She couldn’t believe the mottled mess he’d made of his fingers. “Come over to the porch and sit down so I can look at them.” Ellie made sure he followed her then pointed to the place where he should sit and perched next to him. She gently lifted his hand, aware of the weight of it against hers and the rough feel of his palm flush with hers. She traced the length of his middle finger. She watched his expression for signs of pain. When she placed pressure on the upper half of his middle finger, his face paled and he tried to pull away.

  “It might be broken,” she said. “What did you do?”

  He sat up straight, a little color flushing back into his cheeks. “I was stacking wood into the bed, and my fingers got smashed between two pieces. It’ll be fine. I got here without a problem.”

  She frowned. “Anyone can guide a horse with one hand. I bet you used your left.”

  He shrugged, realizing his arguments would fall on deaf ears. He tried to pull away again.

  She pulled back. “Stop it. You’re acting like a child.”

  For the first time, he raised his gaze to meet hers. His gray eyes held a solemnity that caught her breath. And something else loomed there. . . . “You don’t make me feel like a child.”

  Her breath caught in her throat, and she released his hand and pushed to her feet. “I’ve got to get some bandages.” Realizing how abrupt she sounded, she tried to soften her tone. “You sit still. I’ll be back.”

  eighteen

  Ellie’s thoughts swirled as she searched for an old sheet to rip into strips to bind Theo’s fingers. She couldn’t be sure that middle finger wasn’t broken. She would have to have Martha look at it. Maybe Theo would let her touch it.

  Her face grew hot when she recalled the roughness of his palms and the luminescent light firing his eyes before his last statement, asking something she didn’t quite understand. Or maybe she did. She closed her eyes and released a sigh.

  When she reached for the tin of cloves, she realized how much easier Theo’s injury made their job. Taking him to see Martha wouldn’t be questionable at all. The only danger left would be his lone drive out to the farm. But, she reasoned, if anyone questioned him or her, the fact that he was doing repairs at the farm for her would be a solid excuse for his presence there.

  She mashed the cloves and chickweed then made a paste and hurried out the door. He still sat where she left him, his wide shoulders slumped. For a second, she felt sorry for him. He had done so much. Sacrificed himself for her. Brought her evidence of the truth, however unpalatable she found it. But was she ready to believe him over her uncle Ross?

  Ellie touched his shoulder to let him know she was there. He raised his head as she sat next to him and collected his right hand. “Spread your fingers out.”

  He rested his hand on his thigh and spread his fingers.

  Her face flamed. She wished she could take him inside where she wouldn’t have to be quite so personal in order to wrap his finger. She debated leaving the job for Martha, but the injury must hurt, and he had done it while trying to help her.

  “What’s the paste for?” He lifted his hand from his thigh and held it out.

  Relief spread through her at his action. She dabbed the dark paste onto his middle finger then the others. “A mixture of cloves and chickweed to bring down the swelling.”

  “You know herbs?”

  When she tied the last knot, she shook her head. “Not really. Martha knows many, though. It’s part of the reason why Dr. Selingrove, Rose’s husband, finds Martha’s help so invaluable.”

  “She didn’t seem too talkative when I went to get her that night.”

  “She’s shy.”

  Theodore spit out a laugh. “That’s not the impression I got.”

  She crossed her arms and frowned. “Martha is a kindhearted woman with a real gift for healing, even if she hasn’t had formal training.” She regretted her defensive tone when all the lightheartedness left his expression.

  “I meant no offense.”

  She shifted away from him and stared out at the dead garden. “No. I—I overreacted. It’s been. . .quite a day.”

  A wagon rattled up the road, and they paused to watch its passage. The traffic on Breckinridge Street grew less as the day melted into evening.

  Ellie felt a sickening dread in her stomach when she thought about Uncle Ross’s inevitable return. He would be on horseback and they would be able to see him before he saw them, but it was the conversation she dreaded. How could she pretend she didn’t know a thing? Yet Theo had said he wasn’t sure it was Uncle Ross, just that the man looked a lot like him. Uncle Ross would never shoot someone in cold blood. Was it Martin’s punishment for leaving camp? Cavorting with the enemy?

  Theo’s voice cut into her thoughts. “When I saw her at that doctor’s office, I thought she was a servant or something.”

  Ellie dragged herself back to the conversation. “And acting too good for a woman with black skin?”

  Surprise lit his features. “Well, yes. I guess this Southern boy has a lot to learn. I worked with black men. Breaking horses for the rich.”

  “Did you pay them?”

  “Never crossed my mind. We were friends, though, and they often spoke of horrors their kin endured at the hands of their owners.”

  “If you give the blacks a chance, you can learn a lot about laughter, perseverance, and God.”

  “God?”

  Ellie warmed to her subject, weighing each word against her own untouchable sorrow. “I’ve seen so many of them come through here, their clothes little more than rags, scars on their backs, arms, even their faces. One slave had a brand mark on his cheek because he’d run away once before and gotten caught. The brand was his punishment, but it didn’t stop him from trying again. One older man said the reason their skin was so black was because they’d been through a sight more fires than white folk, and though they got scorched, the good Lord never let them get burned up.”

  And if they could persevere through such pain, I should be able to as well.

  ❧

  Theo took note of her tender smile as she recounted the story. “You’ve done a lot to help them. That shows a great deal of spirit on your part. I think the Lord would be pleased with you.”

  Ellie’s eyes darted to his face then away. “Maybe.”

  “You’ve stayed true to something you believe in.”

  “Martin always believed that everyone had a gift. He was the one that first saw Martha’s talent for herbs.”

  “But you don’t do this for him. You do it for yourself.”

  She nodded and squinted into the setting sun. “I suppose I do. It’s always been hard for me to see people hurt. Even during the battle here, Rose and I did our best to help the wounded. We went to the hospital every day. It was terrible.”

  How well he knew. The one time a bullet had grazed his scalp, his visit to the field hospital had been frightening. The sourness of infection, the moaning, the bugs. . . Those men did not have the gentle touch of a woman or the thoughtful care of clean bandages and homemade poultices. He let his gaze slide over Ellie’s profile, and his chest tightened. And they most certainly didn’t have the beauty to help them forget their wounds and ease the long, lonely days of recovery.

  She faced him then, her gaze searching his. “You’re feeling better.”

  He could only nod as emotion clutched him. “Yes, I am.”

  “I listened to many war stories from the men as they recovered.” Her gaze skittered away from his face. “Martin told me a few.” He saw the way her lips quivered and knew she struggled for composure.

  “He told you about the things he saw?”

  “Some.”

  He straightened his back, working out the kinks, and rubbed his bandaged hand. “If I were married, I think it would be hard for me to talk about everything. It would be the one place the war couldn’t touch unless I let it in, so I’d try and keep the door shut as long as possible.”

  A lone tear slipped dow
n her cheek, and she swiped it away like an errant fly. “But I wanted to help by sharing his burden.”

  She was showing him a part of her hurt that he could only hope to soothe in some small way. He wasn’t sure he knew how, though. How could he wrap up the torment of watching his friends and fellow soldiers die and the patriotism that tore at him to stay and fight? And then there were the other complications. Leaving meant death. But if not killed, then forever walking in a cloud of shame. Or struggling with not being able to endure when others did. Martin had been the same haggard, war-torn man he himself was. The difference was Martin had stayed and died, and he had left and was dying in a very different way.

  Ellie’s hand on his arm brought him alert. Her fingers dug into his forearm. Following the line of her gaze, he saw the lone horseman and heard Ellie’s whisper. “It’s Uncle Ross.”

  nineteen

  Uncle Ross took his time dismounting. He acknowledged Ellie and Theo by an upraised hand but seemed otherwise relaxed to Theo’s eye.

  Theo studied the man more closely as Ross led the horse into the barn, trying to remember. But he feared the passage of time and his own dislike for Ross had biased him.

  “We should leave.” Ellie jerked her head to indicate his bandaged hand. “I’ll help you get Libby hitched up. Just stay calm.”

  “Sure.” He grinned down at her.

  “What?”

  “I’m calm. And Libby never got unhitched.” His eyes slid down to where her hand grasped his arm then back to her. His smile grew.

  She shook her head. “Yes, I guess she is.” He saw the sudden shift in her mood when she glanced at the barn. Tension squared her shoulders, and her voice came to him low and terse. “Are you sure, Theo?”

  It took him a minute to understand the change in subject and absorb the real meaning of her question. Her eyes never left her uncle as he reappeared briefly then turned his back to close the barn doors. “All I can tell”—he pitched his voice low—“is that he looks familiar.”

  Uncle Ross strode up to them.

  Ellie stood.

  Theo remained where he was.

  “Ellie, my dear, I’m bushed. I’ll probably eat something then head straight to bed. We can talk tomorrow.”

  “I’m sorry, Uncle. Theo’s finger looks broken. We—we were just getting ready to hitch up Libby and take him to see the doctor.”

  Uncle Ross slid a look over at Libby. “She is hitched.” His gaze met Ellie’s, brows raised. “And I thought Dr. Selingrove was fighting.”

  She gaped and pink suffused her cheeks. Theo had never seen her quite so rattled. “Yes, that’s right. He is fighting, but he’s not the only doctor in Gettysburg.”

  Ross’s eyes flicked to Theo, his expression cold.

  Theo raised his hand to prove to the man that the need was legitimate. “I think I broke something.” He was proud of himself for maintaining the Yankee pronunciation.

  Ross looked away. “Then I suppose I’ll make myself at home.”

  “Your business went well, I hope?” Ellie asked.

  “It did. Thank you. I’m in an even better position than I thought possible.”

  To Theo’s eye, Ross’s answer caused even greater strain to Ellie, evidenced by the stiffening of her back and the worry line between her eyes.

  “Went by the farm today.” Ross’s expression became gentle. “It’s looking a little run down. If you’d let me, I could hire someone to take care of the repairs.”

  “I’ve already hired someone.”

  Ross’s nostrils flared, and his hard gaze flicked to Theo. “I see.”

  It was that stare, the set of the jaw, and the way the fading light of day hit the planes of his face that brought a flash of certainty to Theo. It had been Ross that night. He would stake his life on it.

  Ellie pulled her skirts up slightly and motioned to Theo to follow her before setting off toward Libby. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Uncle.”

  “Tomorrow morning? I wonder what Martin would say about your being out that late.”

  Ellie spun on her heel. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Theo felt the weight of Ross’s gaze but he kept his own eyes on Ellie.

  Ellie’s eyes blazed hot. “Martin is dead, and Theo is my hired help.”

  Ross opened his mouth, not looking the least bit cowed.

  Ellie cut him off. “Nothing more, Uncle. And I resent the implications of your statement. It might be best for you to find somewhere else to stay for the remainder of your visit. Snyder’s Wagon Hotel is just down the street.”

  Ross held out his hands toward Ellie. “Now, Ellie. You misunderstood me. Let’s talk about this.”

  “As you suggested, Uncle, morning would be a better time to talk.” She didn’t wait for a reply, and Theo could only admire the steel reserve of the woman as he followed her to the wagon.

  When he helped her into the wagon then settled in beside her, he glanced at her profile. She seemed oblivious to everything. Her arms were wrapped around herself. “He was a little too sure of himself,” she murmured.

  “Is he normally suspicious like that?”

  “What if he knows about you, Theo?” Her blue eyes clouded, her words came fast. “You could take a vow to the U.S. Government, then we’ll have nothing to fear.”

  He guided Libby with his good hand. Ellie’s statement made it sound so simple, yet he knew a simple vow would not be the end to the turmoil and memories that plagued him. He glanced at Ellie’s profile, not having missed the “we” in her last statement. He wondered if she cared. Would she offer the solution if she didn’t? He couldn’t help a little grin of satisfaction.

  The wagon squeaked and moaned down the road, the sounds loud in the stillness. “I thank you for defending me, ma’am,” he drawled, hoping to tease her into relaxing.

  “It’s none of his business who I’m with. And you’re my cousin anyway.”

  He turned toward her. “Really?”

  “By marriage.”

  “Oh.”

  She put a hand down to brace herself on the seat and frowned up at him. “What do you mean, ‘Oh’?”

  “Just. . .oh.” He pulled back on the reins to slow Libby for the turn into the narrow road beside the doctor’s office and wondered if what she’d said meant she would never think of him beyond cousin status.

  “Pull over toward the garden and stop.”

  He tried to see the garden area in the dark. There was no sign of movement. He wondered if the slaves even knew of his arrival. Ellie leaned close to him, and he felt her warm breath against his ear. “They’ve already been instructed what to do. Don’t worry. By the time we’re done here, they’ll be in place. Don’t let on that anything is different.”

  He dared to turn toward her before she had a chance to lean away from him. Her eyes flew to his in surprise. He gave her a lazy smile. “Thanks, cuz.”

  twenty

  Ellie watched as Martha examined Theo’s fingers, knowing that as she sat there the runaways were crawling into the wagon as pre-instructed by Martha. From the code Martha had given the previous night, Ellie had known the baby hadn’t been born yet and where to place the wagon, but the impending birth would cause the woman great discomfort in the bumpy ride to the farm. Still, it couldn’t be helped. At least there would be less likelihood of discovery if she gave birth out at the farm than if she were in the cellar of Dr. Selingrove’s offices—provided her uncle didn’t decide to pay the farm another visit. That he had been on the property at all, without her permission, irritated her.

  Ellie found herself transfixed by the placid expression on Theo’s face as Martha probed his fingers. She confirmed that the middle one was broken, the pressure of her fingers on the joint and the wince of pain on Theo’s face lending credit to her diagnosis. Without informing Theo of her intentions, Martha’s strong fingers cupped around his middle finger and yanked.

  Theo released a grunt then inhaled sharply.

  Martha didn’
t even glance his way but set about putting herbs in a mortar and pestle. Ellie watched as she ground the herbs, noting that Theo remained quiet though collected.

  She wished she could read his thoughts. Was he considering her suggestion? Was it because of what he had revealed about Uncle Ross that she felt such a need to protect him? Or was it because protecting him meant protecting her own secret?

  For a fleeting moment, in the wagon, she had thought he might kiss her. When he had only smiled and commented about being her cousin, her disappointment had been palpable. Worse, she’d felt every bit the fool for thinking such thoughts.

  When Theo turned his head and caught her staring at him, another flush of heat went through her. After tonight she wouldn’t see him as much. Returning to the mundane tasks of living and taking care of Rose would make things easier. She could grieve uninterrupted.

  If Theo stayed out at the farm, there would be plenty of work for him to do for a couple of weeks. Then, instead of having him do the necessary repairs on her house, she would pay him and encourage him to leave. Thank him for all he had done and release him. If he didn’t take the vow, he would continue his journey, running from his responsibility.

  Embers of anger stirred over that thought. How could he look at himself knowing he had deserted the cause for which Bud and all his other friends fought? If only it had been Martin to come back to her instead of Theo. . .

  ❧

  At the farm, Theo backed the wagon to the barn and left it there as Ellie had instructed him. He would stay in the stable for two nights, then the springhouse would be his until he finished the repairs. According to Ellie’s racing monologue on the way back to her house, she would then pay him and he could leave. His services no longer needed. And the whole time Ellie spouted the litany of instructions, she hadn’t once looked him full in the face.

  He worked the straps to unhitch Libby. “Some oats should help ease the workload you had today, huh, girl?” If only his own load could be erased so easily. He led the horse into the barn and closed the doors, leaving the runaways to do whatever it was they’d been instructed to do.