by Kim Bowman
Amelia saw him, too. She came hurrying over, crossing the grass that separated us from the ticket counter where she had been perusing advertisements. Her face was tight and pale, anxious. She started to speak but I hushed her, placing her between Grayson and myself, and kept my back to the crowd. My voice held traces of my panic and traces of pleading, “Grayson!”
He nodded and his calm manner reassured me slightly. “Board the train, ladies.” He directed us to the small steps leading into our car, fifth from the engine. I followed his edict, trembling.
He boarded behind Amelia and led us to seats on the far side of the train. I looked up at him, eyes wide and mouth trembling. “What are you doing?”
“Just do as I say, follow along, both of you.”
Chapter Eight
My uncle would order Grayson hung for horse thievery if he discovered us, and I spent the next several moments fervently praying that we would escape this unscathed. In all truth, it was miraculous we had gotten this far without being caught. That thought did little to reassure me.
Amelia sat in the seat between us, slouched down to avoid undue notice. She was quickly losing that impenetrable surety of youth, the belief that all goes well for those who deserved it. A necessary transformation, I supposed, but one I hated nonetheless.
Grayson used his much larger body to block us from view of any who might be in the aisle. I hoped my uncle hadn’t gotten a good enough look at the soldier back in Jessup’s barn. He looked remarkably different now; clean-shaven, well-dressed, not as lean and unhealthy looking ¯ I prayed it was enough.
I sat there on the brocade-covered cushion, watching out the window. People milled about both sides of the vehicle and I searched the faces for those I recognized. I relaxed slightly seeing no more sign of my uncle or cousins. Maybe it wasn’t Mark that we had seen?
I relaxed my shoulders, relief filling me. A red-headed man paused just even with my window. I pulled back, hoping the thin blue drapery provided ample cover.
But it didn’t; Mark had seen me. He tapped on the high glass and a small, almost inaudible, squeal left my lips.
But Mark didn’t sound the alarm, bringing my uncle running into the cart. Grayson pulled me out of the window’s frame. My former beau held a finger to his lips, motioning for me to remain quiet.
What was Mark doing? What was going on? Grayson, Amelia, and I held our collective breath, waiting for Mark to do something ¯ anything. Nothing happened and I watched uncomprehending as Mark turned back in the direction of the boardwalk. I knew he had recognized me ¯ he had looked directly at me through the clear pane of the window. I watched as he shook his head and walked away.
I held Grayson’s hand ¯ reassured once again by his presence ¯ as we waited the interminable minutes until the train began to shudder.
I rocked back and forth against the motion of the big engine, holding onto my calm by only the thinnest of threads. My stomach churned ulcerously and the pounding of my heart drowned out the sound of passengers calling their good-byes through the open windows. The answers to both questions yielded only danger and uncertainty ¯ for all of us. I didn’t know if I could withstand the upheaval, the scattering of everything, much longer.
As I rocked, the train’s whistle blew. Its starting bellow stuttered my breathing, pulling the air from my chest.
My heart started beating again as the train slowly pulled forward. My uncle had yet to make an appearance ¯ either in our cart or on the platform ¯ but I just knew the man was nearby. He rarely traveled far without Mark and I knew if Beatrice’s husband had trailed us this far, it was on my uncle’s orders. So why hadn’t Mark raised the alarm?
As our car trailed out of the depot, pulling the half dozen or so behind it, I spotted Mark again. He stood just out of range from the train’s metal wheels, watching each compartment as it lumbered by. Our section pulled by and he looked at the window where I sat. He smiled, gave a small salute, then turned and walked away. I watched for a moment until the cart was long passed then turned around at the sound of frantic whispering between my sister and the soldier. I would think of Mark and his strange actions much later. We had more imminent concerns to deal with now.
“Hand me the tickets. Amelia, be upset but apologetic.” Grayson’s hand opened over mine as he spoke and I hastily complied, giving him both the tickets and the wallet.
I didn’t understand anything he meant. I started to ask him to explain but a train attendant was meandering up the aisle, asking to see tickets. My heart spasmed as he drew nearer to our seats.
“Amelia!” Grayson’s voice was harsh and I nearly jumped out of my seat, having never heard that tone issued from him toward the child. I almost protested, so ingrained was the need to protect Amelia, but remembered that he had ordered us to follow his instructions.
“I’m really sorry!” My sister’s voice rose at the end and I wondered what the two were getting at.
“I thought you were responsible. This was one little thing.” Grayson scolded as Amelia looked chastised. “It was only for a few moments!”
“I must have lost it when I was playing with that dog.” Amelia hung her head.
Their voices were loud enough to be heard by the other half dozen passengers, and I cringed, feeling their eyes upon our little tableau.
“Tickets. Sir, ma’am.” The attendant was a small man and I could sense that he took great import from his position and his uniform. His tie was exactly straight, his suit and vest precisely pressed. Thick wire glasses, impeccably spot-free, made his eyes appear like two large orbs and reminded me of a fly’s. To me ¯ he was the most frightening sight I had seen in several days; he terrified me more than those monsters by the creek, more than my uncle.
“Here are my wife’s and mine. I’m afraid we have a little situation.” Grayson sent my sister a look full of reproach and it suddenly dawned on me what they were about. “My young sister-in-law seems to have misplaced her ticket.”
“I told you not to give her the ticket, darling,” I said parsimoniously, thinning my lips at the two of them.
“No ticket?” the man ran long-boned fingers over his balding palate as his orbs widened behind the glass. “Well. I mean. That won’t do.”
“I’d be glad to purchase another.” Grayson reached into his wallet for a bill. He handed the currency to the man and the ticket-man stared at it as if he hadn’t seen the like before. “Keep the rest for your trouble, of course.”
“Well then. I suppose. Since the child lost her ticket, we can’t just throw her off the train, of course. In the future, you must be more careful.” The little man puffed up and I watched as he slipped Grayson’s offering into his vest. How had Grayson known to play it in that manner?
After the porter walked away, several dollars richer, the rest of our trip passed uneventful. Grayson ordered us each a meal of sliced meat and fresh bread with chunks of the best cheese I had ever tasted. After the meal I was finally able to relax, to gain control of my emotions and my senses.
Amelia watched out the window for a while before being lulled into a deep sleep before we had even reached the next stop on the route. It was another hour before all the passengers boarded and grew comfortable. When no one took the bench directly from us, Grayson lifted the sleeping child and moved her to the opposing seat. I helped him position her comfortably before covering her with a light blanket that had been tucked into the corner of the compartment. I settled back onto my section of the bench I shared with the man.
“How long will it take to get there?” I asked as the train pulled out of the new station. It was much nicer than the one at which we had boarded; it was built of the most beautiful limestone and located in the downtown of the small city.
“Depends on the number of stops along the way. Twelve hours, at most, I think. I could be wrong, I’m not entirely certain of the geography of this state.” He stretched his long legs into the space between the two benches. His feet were so big. I had never notices a man�
�s feet before, had been taught it was indecorous to look below a man’s chin. Everything about Grayson was on the big scale. Oh ¯ he was not fat, by any means. Just big; I loved that about him. He seemed so able to protect. My father had been a larger man, and quiet like Grayson. I wondered briefly what Amelia remembered of that great man. Was she projecting those memories onto the man beside me?
“Hopefully we’ll find lodgings quickly.” Grayson’s eyes were closed, his dark lashes fanning his tanned cheeks.
“What will you do? I mean, I know, you hadn’t intended coming…” I didn’t know what to say. I understood his need to return to his men and his brother, but I was glad he was still with me. I berated myself for being so selfish.
“I’ll try to get back to Kentucky. Head over the border into Tennessee. See if Fischer headed on to the farm. The men were talkin’ of headin’ to Richmond. If I can’t find word of my brother, I’ll head that way.” His eyes darted past me, staring sightlessly out the window.
I sympathized with the man; I knew what it was like to raise and care for a younger sibling. To know that sibling was fighting a brutal, bloody war must be immeasurably worse. I looked at Amelia sleeping so peacefully; I couldn’t imagine not knowing where she was, having to face those kinds of fears.
He leaned back against the seat ¯ which was too small for his frame ¯ and closed his eyes again. I was silent, letting him rest. I knew he needed it. It wasn’t long before I too dozed.
I woke to once again find myself using Grayson for a pillow. He and Amelia were engrossed in a game of cards and laughing betwixt themselves. Avoiding his eyes, I stretched my legs as unobtrusively as possible. They finished their game after asking me if I’d like to join. Not possessing much of a head for games of chance or those that require a high amount of skill remembering numbers I hastily declined the offer. I was content instead to watch the scenery as the train traversed the last score of miles before our destination city.
The weather in Indiana was an indecisive beast, bringing rain, snow, sun, and tornadoes often in the span of less than a week. Today was a beautiful, moderate day with the perfect amount of cloud intermixed with patches of golden warmth. The farms we passed were teaming with life; cattle were a favorite for this region, as were corn and wheat. Looking at the beauty of this country made one almost forget that many of the farmers were off fighting and that it was the women and children tending such crops, raising such livestock.
I watched the farms roll by and reflected on what had passed in the last several days. So much had happened, and I had had little times of peace such as this. What was to happen to all of us? Why hadn’t Mark betrayed us to my uncle? What would this next city bring?
All of these questions were hovering at the edge of my consciousness but I was afraid to pull them forth. I hated not knowing the answers, and I didn’t want to face these eventualities.
So I chose not to. The train began an ascent, yet another hill, and I felt my body being tugged back into the seat slightly. We crested the hill and the locomotive made its way into the much easier decline and I wondered if I had crested a hill in other ways.
I was finally free of the horrific tension, the terrifying fear that my uncle was merely steps behind us. I could rely on the fact that it would be much easier for us to remain hidden in a city in a way we couldn’t in the rural hills and valleys surrounding his farm.
But now what? Who was I to become? The past four years I had existed only to care for my sisters, never dwelling on what life had entailed before this damnable war began. I had let myself be threaded into my sisters’ lives, never giving thought to my own. Save the debacle with Mark, of course.
I stared out the window as we crossed a bridge, trying to remember who that girl was four years ago. I couldn’t do it, I could not remember how she thought, how she acted, how she dreamed. I could see the tears rolling down my cheeks unchecked, my reflection wavering in the window. Had I looked at myself in these past four years? Had I liked what I saw?
The blue of my gown echoed the blue of the Indiana sky on a perfect day ¯ but did the beautiful color reflect well the person wearing it? How did others see me? How did I want them to see me? What was to become of me?
After finding Rachel, would I be able to support myself and Amelia? It would be the height of unfairness to ask Gideon for support. He and Rachel would have enough difficulties as it was. Maybe they could take Amelia? She was old enough to bring in some income, and in the city surely something of employment could be found for her. As to me ¯ could I support myself? Did I have any skills that would allow me not to be a burden on my brother-in-law? I was a modest seamstress, capable of sewing simple gowns and undergarments. But what sort of work could that get me? Would there be positions in a mill somewhere?
Amelia and Grayson had fallen silent, noticing my quiet crying. My sister’s face was pale, and she was chewing on her lip ¯ a habit she had when she was nervous or frightened.
Grayson covered my hand with his, squeezing gently, before releasing it. He pulled my head away from the window, instead returning it to the position it had occupied during my nap. He had such a hard shoulder, but my head felt as if it fit. He asked me not what was bothering me, a fact I was grateful for. I was unsure what to tell him, how to explain to him the general nature of my melancholy. I didn’t want him reducing my sadness to a woman’s general hysteria, for it wasn’t that. It was a sadness sinking into my very bones, consuming me. I stayed there unspeaking, head resting nestled close enough to pick up the scent that would forever be his, until the train pulled into the depot just south of the great capitol city.
Indianapolis was dirty.
As we exited our cart, my nose was filled with the pungent odor of sulfur and horses, unwashed bodies and factories, spoiled meats and cloying perfumes. And the people! Everywhere we stepped, someone stood in our way. I knew right away that I wouldn’t like this city.
Grayson gave quick orders to a passing porter, wanting our horses unloaded from the back of the vehicle with as much haste as possible. After giving strict orders to Amelia and me not to move from our current spot until he returned to us, he followed to ensure the General and the mares had passed the journey with no harm.
Amelia and I did as we were told, though I could feel the nervous tremblings running up her arms. She was excited, having a love of geography and never traveling before now. At least not that she could recollect with any degree of certainty ¯ to my way of thinking. I hoped this journey was yielding something to the girl besides fear and uncertainty. Why should she be bothered by the things running through my mind? Let her enjoy this different experience while she could. There would be time enough for reality once we reached Chicago.
There were a lot of men in the station house and it made me uncontrollably nervous. I still had visions of those three cretins trapping me beside my horse. Was that only thirty-something hours ago? I supposed many of those wandering about were soldiers on leave, and my opinion was supported once I looked close enough to see the uniforms, whole or partial, that clothed many of the men.
They looked so sad ¯ so dead-eyed and empty. Was this what war did to men? I noticed a small knot of men, mostly soldiers, walking in our direction and I pulled Amelia out of their path. One was missing his arm, an empty sleeve dangling uselessly to his waist. Another walked with rough-carved crutches and when he got closer I could see that heavy bandages covered his remaining leg. He caught me staring at him as he walked by and he stared back at me, unflinching. There was nothing in his gaze, and nubs rose along my spine; surely he must feel something.
Finally I had to look away; I couldn’t look at him any longer. This was the first time I had seen someone with so obvious an injury. Few men had returned to our town and none with amputations. Gideon’s brother Matthew had been hurt, and he limped, but was still intact, possessing all his limbs. I had to confess I found it hard to look at Matthew, unsure what to say to him, how to act. This man was so much worse, and I was glad
he passed by without speaking.
Amelia stood silent, taking in all the new sights. Not that there were many visible with so many people in every direction. We waited patiently for Grayson, trying to stay out of the way of the crowds, but still remain visible for when he returned.
It wasn’t but half of an hour before he found us in the crowd. I could tell by looking at his face that something had happened and I straightened my spine, bracing for the worst of news.
“Come.” He grabbed my arm, and I could feel the urgency in his hand. I wanted to demand answers but I waited, certain they would soon be forthcoming. He was tense, his shoulders taut, eyes darting around the large crowd ¯ the crowd that seemed to have swelled considerably while Amelia and I waited. People began to shriek, shouts were heard, hallelujahs and praises be. I looked at him, confused.
“Surrender!” The word echoed over my head, repeated by the crowd and by the newsboys running around waving papers in people’s excited faces.
Grayson tightened his hold on my arm and grabbed the back of Amelia’s dress as the people began rushing towards the eager boys, wanting to be the first to read the special editions. The crowds’ movements terrified me and I let Grayson pull us to the nearest exit.
I was certain we were to be trampled! What did surrender mean to me if we were all dead, the victims of a stampede?
I don’t know how we managed, but Grayson found his way out of the exploding crowd, pulling my sister and myself with him. It wasn’t until we took the reins to our mounts from the boy Grayson had paid to hold them that the true meaning of what had just happened set in.
“Surrender?” I looked to Grayson for clarification. It was over? “Is it real?”
“Appears so. Grant and Lee met, seems it’s done. They met two days ago to talk.” Grayson’s brows were lowered and I couldn’t discern if he was angry or merely perplexed by this unexpected news. What did surrender mean for him?
