Jolie marveled at them. Henry DeForge and Morgan were finicky eaters. It wasn’t that they disliked certain foods; they both liked a wide variety of meats and vegetables and fruits. It was just that they ate sparingly. Jolie had never seen a robust, hungry man eat before. She herself could hardly eat for watching them.
These seven men were all that was left of the original twenty-six men they had taken in. Over the last two weeks the others had recovered, probably much quicker than they would have in the overcrowded hospitals in Richmond. Evetta, Ketura, and Jolie were all excellent nurses, and thanks to Morgan’s hoarding, they had good food and plenty of it.
This was the first time they had all sat down to eat in the dining room, however. Until this morning they had been fifteen, but today Dr. Travers, who had joined the army and was now a captain, had pronounced eight men fit for duty, and they had returned to Richmond to join their units.
Jolie watched Blair Southall, a big bear of a man six feet tall with a barrel chest. He was Morgan’s age and handsome, she supposed, though he was tough looking, with thick black hair and a full mustache. Nash was only eighteen and was built more like Morgan, though he wasn’t as tall. He was slender, with sandy blond hair and expressive brown eyes. Both of the Southall brothers were keen outdoorsmen, and Morgan had many times taken them hunting in the Wilderness and fishing on the Rapidan. If they had been surprised to see Jolie living in his home, neither of them showed it. They were well-brought-up, gallant young men.
During the next week, Dr. Travers came by twice and finally certified all the men fit for duty.
On the morning the Southall brothers were leaving, Jolie was surprised to see Nash Southall come find her in Morgan’s study. Since the wounded men had been recovering, she had resumed her lessons, whether Morgan was there or not. She looked up as Nash came in and said, “You aren’t leaving yet, are you? I was coming to tell you good-bye.”
“Blair’s still polishing up his brass,” Nash said, coming to perch up on the corner of Morgan’s desk by her. “He thinks since he’s a lieutenant that he should look like a peacock on parade all the time.”
Jolie giggled. “Nash, you’re one to talk. You’re the natty one in the family. You can’t fool me, you know. I’m the one who had to mend your uniform, not once but twice.”
“Guess you’re right,” he admitted. “I can’t help it. I don’t like to get dirty. I can see I’m going to have a little trouble with that in this man’s army. Anyway, Jolie, I want to ask you something. How old are you?”
“I’m fifteen,” she answered, mystified.
He nodded. “I thought so, but when you were nursing all of us, you seemed so much older, so much more mature. But you sure don’t look older. Morgan said he’s your guardian. Is that right?”
“Yes, my father died a year and a half ago, and Mr. Tremayne was kind enough to take me in.”
“I see. So that’s all there is to it, then?”
“What do you mean? Oh wait, I think I see. Between me and Mr. Tremayne, you mean? He’s my guardian, Nash,” she repeated with some vehemence and some bitterness.
Nash asked quietly, “Then do you have a sweetheart, Jolie?”
Jolie’s cheeks turned a delicate shade of peach. “No, I don’t have a sweetheart, Nash.”
He grinned. “Good. Then I’ll be back, Jolie. I’ll be back to see you just as soon as I can. Er—that’s all right with you, isn’t it? I mean, you don’t think I’m an ugly toad or a dead bore or anything, do you?”
Jolie smiled. “No, I happen to think that you’re handsome and interesting. Yes, I’d like for you to come visit me, Nash. Whenever you can.”
Morgan returned on the last day of August. He rode in late that afternoon, tired and dusty and world-weary. Everywhere he had looked he had seen the machinery of war, whether it was men in uniform or cannon or overflowing hospitals or women rolling bandages.
I’m not even a part of it. I haven’t even joined the army, he reflected grimly. How can I be so sick of it all? And after only one major battle? What am I going to do? What is the right thing to do, Lord?
He caught sight of his neat red house up on the hill, and his spirits lifted. He would talk to Jolie about it. She never said much, but Morgan had found her to be a good listener. When she did say anything or offer her opinion, it was always thoughtful and intelligent. He spurred Vulcan to a fast canter.
When he got onto the grounds, he saw Jolie in the training paddock, mounted on Calliope, Rosh’s dependable mare.
Leading the mare around in circles and laughing up at Jolie was Nash Southall.
Morgan leaped out of the saddle and stamped up to the paddock. “What’s going on? Jolie, what are you doing, perched up there sidesaddle, without a sidesaddle? You’re going to fall off and break your silly head!”
Jolie and Nash turned, both of them with looks of surprise. Jolie called, “Hello, Mr. Tremayne! Welcome home! And I won’t break my silly head. This is the fourth time Nash has helped me ride this way.”
Nash led the mare to the fence where Morgan was standing. “Hello, Morgan. Why are you so upset? Miss Jolie’s doing very well. If she had a lady’s saddle, she’d be galloping along before you know it. Besides, I’d never let her fall.” He smiled up at Jolie.
“I’m not upset,” Morgan snapped. “I’m just surprised. I’ve been teaching Jolie to ride, and I didn’t think she was ready to try sidesaddle yet.”
Nash stepped back and held his hands up. Jolie jumped into them, and gently he set her on the ground.
She came to Morgan and said, “But sir, you know I can’t ride astride, bareback, all my life. And you’re much too busy to teach me the proper way. I just thought I could try sitting sidesaddle, and if I could do it, maybe you could order me a lady’s saddle.”
“I can do that, certainly,” Morgan said in a calmer tone. “When I’m sure you’re ready. Nash, how is it that you’re not back with your unit yet? You look all healed up and fine to me.”
“Sure I am, Morgan. Blair and I went back last week. I just came by to see Miss Jolie.”
“You did? Oh. Oh, I see. I guess,” Morgan said uncertainly.
“He can’t stay for supper. He has to be back in camp tonight,” Jolie said. “Do you mind if I ride just a little more, Mr. Tremayne? Nash has to leave soon.”
“I guess that’ll be all right,” Morgan said. “Nash, it’s good to see you. I’m glad you and Blair are all fixed up. But I’m really tired. I think I’m going on in and getting a nice, long, hot bath.”
“Go ahead, Morgan. I won’t keep Miss Jolie long,” he said easily. “See you next week.”
Morgan went back into the house and had an hour-long soak. Jolie came in for supper and told him all about the men and how they had recovered so well in that last week they’d been there. Morgan let her chatter on.
When they were finished, he said, “Jolie, would you mind coming into the study with me? I need to talk to you.”
“Of course.”
Carrying his coffee cup, Morgan went and seated himself behind his desk, instead of sitting in the chairs by the windows.
Jolie sat across the desk from him.
“Jolie, I have to admit I was shocked when I saw you and Nash this afternoon,” he said evenly. “Do I understand that he is courting you?”
“I think so,” Jolie answered with some difficulty. “I’m not too educated about these things, Mr. Tremayne. He asked me if I had a sweetheart, and when I said no, he asked if he could visit me. That’s courting, isn’t it?”
“Yes. But Jolie, it’s not fitting. You are much too young to have men courting you.”
“But I’m fifteen! Evetta says that lots of girls get married at fifteen, or even fourteen.”
“Married! Good gracious, Jolie, you can’t be thinking of marriage!”
“Of course I am,” she replied with a tiny smile. “I’m a fifteen-year-old girl. But I’m not thinking of marrying Nash Southall, nor is he thinking of marrying me. We just l
ike each other, that’s all. He’s sweet and fun, and he makes me laugh. What’s wrong with that?”
Morgan frowned, and it was some time before he answered. “There’s nothing wrong with that, of course. It’s just that you’ve led a very sheltered life, and you’re very innocent. I don’t think you’re ready for beaus yet, Jolie.”
“Mr. Tremayne, most girls are innocent at my age, aren’t they? I mean, they should be. Am I so odd, so bizarre, because I’m an octoroon and because my father wouldn’t dare claim me while he was alive?” She spoke passionately, and her eyes filled with tears.
“No, no, Jolie, that’s not it at all,” Morgan said quickly. “Please don’t cry. I don’t know what to do when ladies cry. My mother never cried in front of me. It makes me very nervous.”
Suddenly Jolie smiled through her tears. “You called me a lady. Even you know deep down that I’m not a child anymore, Mr. Tremayne. I am a young lady, and having Nash Southall visit me shouldn’t scare you at all.”
“No, it shouldn’t,” Morgan said, almost to himself. “All right, I guess I won’t kick Nash off the property when he comes to see you. But you just watch yourself, Jolie. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I won’t,” she assured him.
Summer passed quickly; fall lingered sweetly, it seemed to Morgan. It didn’t get really cold until the last of October, when the first snowfall, a light, pretty one, blanketed northern Virginia.
The two vast armies were huddled in their winter camps. Abraham Lincoln and his war cabinet were planning their spring campaign. Jefferson Davis and his generals were trying to figure out what Lincoln was planning, and General Lee was working hard to push for an offensive campaign beginning in March of 1862.
Morgan felt as if he had suddenly come to a halt and had breathing space. He felt no anguish over whether to join the Confederate Army or not, for he knew that there would be no great battles during wintertime. He had winter crops to plant and horses to train. In the spring, he would make his decision. He must make his decision….
PART THREE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jolie heard the sound of a bird outside her window and slowly opened her eyes. March had just come and, as always, the spring was a delight to her. Slowly she got up, stretched, and then swung her feet out of bed and moved over toward the window.
She stared at the bird nibbling at the sunflower seed that she had put out. It was a medium-sized bird with a ladderback design and a red head. “I thought I knew all the birds,” she murmured, “but you don’t look like a woodpecker to me.” She watched the bird until he evidently had eaten his fill then leaped into the air and flew away.
Jolie went to her armoire and for a moment could not decide what to wear. She finally selected a well-worn blue cotton dress. Sighing, she put it on. She had to struggle to pull it down. Close to turning sixteen, it seemed as if her figure had developed overnight. Every dress and blouse she owned was too tight across her chest, the sleeves were too short, and most of her skirts were too short.
Leaving her room, she walked through the house and went out to the kitchen where Evetta was rolling out dough, preparing to make biscuits.
“You can’t wear that dress, Jolie. It ain’t modest.” Displeasure was in Evetta’s face, and she added, “Go put on something decent.”
“All my dresses are too tight. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“Well, you’re going to have to have new dresses. That’s what you’re gonna do. You tell Mr. Morgan that you got to have some new clothes.”
“I don’t like to ask for things.”
“You’re just too proud. That’s what’s the matter with you, child. Now, you do like I says.”
Amon came in, moved behind Evetta, then put his arms around her and lifted her off the floor. “My, it’s fine to have a good-looking wife.”
“You put me down!” Evetta protested, even though she really liked the attention.
Amon set her down but gave her an extra squeeze. “My next wife, she’s going to be more loving than you.”
“Never mind your next wife. I’m all the wife you needs.”
The outside door opened, and Morgan came in. “Good morning,” he said cheerfully. “Do I smell bacon and eggs?”
“You sit down there, Mr. Tremayne,” Jolie said, “and I’ll get your coffee.”
Morgan sat down. Amon, Rosh, and Santo joined him, and they talked, as always, about horses. Ketura came in, and she and Jolie helped Evetta finish and serve the men. Finally breakfast was on the table.
They all bowed their heads, and Morgan asked a quick blessing; then he filled his plate and began eating hungrily. “Good cooking, Evetta, as always. Thank you.” Morgan was always courteous, showing his appreciation to Amon and his family.
“You’re welcome, Mr. Tremayne. You know, sir, she don’t like to say, but Jolie really needs some new clothes. She’s outgrown just about everything you got her last year.”
Morgan looked thoughtful. “All right, Jolie. We can go into town to Sally Selden’s and order you some things. Would you like to do that?”
Jolie eagerly said, “Oh yes, sir, please. And may Ketura come, too?”
“Of course. In fact, I’ll bet Ketura could use a new dress or two. We’ll make it a shopping day for the ladies. Be ready to go in about an hour.”
Morgan drove the wagon into Fredericksburg, and Jolie thought he seemed carefree and confident, not weighted down and burdened as he had so often been since the war started. He made jokes and teased Jolie and Ketura unmercifully. “So I guess I’m taking you two ladies to the mill, to buy you some flour sacks for new dresses, isn’t that right?”
They giggled and cried, “Oh no! No, sir, Mr. Tremayne! Please, please!” Their high youthful voices on the gentle spring air seemed to please him.
Despite all his teasing, he stopped the wagon on Main Street, just in front of a small, neat brick shop. Over the door was a sign that read: SALLY SELDEN, DRESSMAKER AND MILLINER. Morgan jumped out of the wagon and came to gallantly help Jolie and Ketura down.
Instantly they went to look in the shop window. In it was displayed a cambric dress, white with a print of tiny yellow daffodils. The mannequin had a straw hat with a wide graceful brim. It had a yellow ribbon around the crown, tying underneath the chin. The hat was trimmed with real daffodils and white baby’s breath.
“Oooh, that’s just beautiful,” Ketura breathed. “That would look so, so pretty on you, Jolie.”
“It would on you, too, Ketura,” Jolie said wistfully.
Standing behind them, Morgan said, “Tell you what. Both of you order yourselves that dress and hat. You pick out the material you want. I don’t guess you’d want the same thing. Seems like ladies don’t like it when that happens for some reason. Anyway, go ahead and order a couple of nice dresses each, and let’s see, maybe three dresses for everyday. How does that sound?”
“Really?” Ketura said, her big brown eyes as round as saucers. “Even me, Mr. Tremayne?”
“Even you, Ketura. And by the way, you’d better order a nice new hat for your mother, too, or we’ll all be in big trouble.”
Jolie went up on tiptoe and kissed Morgan’s cheek. “Thank you, Mr. Tremayne. Being able to get something for Ketura makes me almost as happy as getting new clothes myself.”
“I know,” he said lightly. “That’s one thing that makes you a very unusual girl, Jolie. Now I’ve got a couple of errands to run, and I’m going to stop by the Club Coffee Shop to get the papers and the latest news. You two don’t go wandering around, do you hear me? When you get finished, you come straight to the coffee shop. Jolie, do you remember where it is?”
“Yes, sir.” She pointed down the street. “It’s just down there, across the street. I can see the sign from here. We promise we’ll only go there.”
“Okay. Have fun. And take your time. I know girls like to do this stuff for hours and hours.” Morgan climbed back up into the wagon.
Jolie c
alled out, “Mr. Tremayne?”
“Yes?”
“Um—maybe—perhaps—two hats, sir? Each?”
“Minx,” he said affectionately. “Two hats. And don’t forget Evetta.”
Morgan went first to the wheelwrights, because he thought that one of the wagon wheels was jinking a little. He left the wagon there and walked to the bank and made a deposit. Vulcan had already gone out to stud and ruefully Morgan sighed as he handed over the Confederate money to the teller. Already fifty dollars in Confederate money was equal to about ten dollars gold. As he had predicted, the blockade was working all too well. Coffee was a dollar a pound, tea five dollars, a pair of shoes were anywhere from ten to fifteen dollars a pair. Morgan knew that it was only going to get worse.
From there he stopped by Silas Cage’s office and gave the attorney an update. He had made friends with Cage in the time since Henry DeForge had died. Pretty, young Mrs. Cage had given birth to a little girl just before Christmas, and Morgan duly admired the new baby. After they finished discussing his new daughter and Jolie, Cage took off his glasses and polished them with his handkerchief. By now this was a familiar sign to Morgan. He knew Cage was going to tell him something important.
“Morgan, I’ve decided to join the army,” he said quietly.
“I see,” Morgan said. “That’s going to be real hard on Mrs. Cage, isn’t it?”
He put his glasses back on. “Yes. But it’s something I have to do. I love this country. I mean Virginia. I have to fight for her. It’s just that simple. Maybe I’m presuming on our friendship, but I would like to know. Are you planning on joining the army, Morgan?”
“Yes,” he said instantly. His quick definite answer was something of a surprise, even to Morgan himself. Now he realized that all winter he had, in the deepest recesses of his mind, firmly decided to join. “But I’m not sure when I’m going to join up, Silas,” he temporized. “You know that I’ve spent the last year making preparations, planning, stocking up, so that Rapidan Run, and Jolie, will be safe if something happens to me. Oh, I’ll just say it. In the back of my mind I’ve always known that I was doing all of those things in case I was killed in battle. So right now I’ve got just a couple more things to do. I’ve got spring planting, and I’ve got ten three-year-olds that are just about ready to be sold. And of course I’m selling them to the Confederate Army. I did just want to make sure they’re trained and ready before I do.”
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