Love Stays True

by Martha Rogers

  She left him sitting in the shade and hurried back to the house and her duties to prepare the midday meal.

  The family gathered around the dining table for the noon meal prepared by Flora. Sallie gazed at those around her, her heart full of love for her family. They were all here in one place, safe. Sallie glanced toward her grandmother. The elderly lady smiled and nodded toward her husband. “I believe it’s time for grace.”

  The tall, silver-haired man held out his hands to the ones on either side of him. The rest of the family joined to complete the circle while Grandpa Woodruff returned thanks with his deep bass voice.

  At the “amen,” Sallie’s two younger brothers reached across to fill their plates. Sallie smothered a chuckle when her father’s stern look stopped the boys’ forks in midair. Will and Tom sat back and waited for the platters of ham and potatoes to be passed to them.

  Grandpa Woodruff cleared his throat and addressed Papa. “When will you be going back up to Woodville to repair your home?”

  Papa reached across for Mama’s hand. “As soon as I have what I need to get started.” He peered around the table at each of his children.

  At the sight of Mama’s red-rimmed eyes Sallie’s heart filled with love and sorrow for the two people who meant so much to her.

  Papa’s slate gray eyes flashed with determination. “It’ll take work, but I think we can restore the house by midsummer. We won’t be able to live in it until then.”

  Grandpa Woodruff cleared his throat. “It appears to me you’ll have to stay here with us a while longer. We’ll enjoy that. Won’t we, Mary Catherine?” He peered over his glasses at his wife.

  “Of course we will. These past days have been pleasant, but don’t you think it may be dangerous to go back up there with the boys? What if the Yanks come back?” Grandma wrinkled her brow and leaned toward Papa.

  Papa buttered a chunk of cornbread. “No need to worry, Mother Woodruff. I don’t think they will. When I went back yesterday, all was peaceful and quiet. The railroad is still intact, and the town fared well. Rosemont suffered some damage, as did a few other homes, but they too can be repaired. Seems it was just a renegade group of Union soldiers on their way north. Most others moved on out weeks ago. From what I’ve heard, they plan to march on across Mississippi and join the troops with Grant in Georgia. I don’t believe there’ll be much more fighting around these parts.”

  Grandma Woodruff shook her head. “I don’t care. Look at poor Bayou Sara. Why, if the men down at the landing hadn’t fought back so hard, they just might have come on up here to St. Francisville.”

  Grandpa reached over and patted her arm. “Now, don’t fret yourself over that. It’s been a few years since then, and I haven’t heard anything about other Yankee troops anywhere near except in New Orleans.”

  “And that’s too close for me.”

  Her father and grandfather spoke of the fierce fighting only a few miles down the road at the river landing in 1863 during the battle for Port Hudson. The gunfire had been loud, and Grandma and Grandpa had hidden in the root cellar when shells hit Grace Church less than a mile away.

  Talk of that battle reminded Sallie again of the day she too had hid in a cellar to escape Yankee gunfire. The firm set of Grandma’s mouth revealed her fears of the Yankees’ return that matched Sallie’s personal ones. Listening to their talk elevated her fears over what she had done. Those two battles had been too close to home.

  Her body quivered with the memory, and then a hand squeezed her arm. She glanced up to lock gazes with Mama. From the sadness seen there, her mother remembered too.

  Grandma tapped on her glass. “Enough of this war talk.” Her voice took on a more cheerful note. “It’ll be good having all of you here. We have plenty of room, and until the river trade is back up to what it was before the siege of Port Hudson, we have enough fresh vegetables growing, meat in the smokehouse, and preserved foods to last through summer.”

  Papa folded his napkin on the table. “Thank you, Mother Woodruff. Like I said, the railroad is running and what cotton can be harvested will be brought down to Whiteman’s for shipment north, so supplies should be coming too.” Papa turned his gaze to the two teenage boys across the table. “I plan on taking you two with me to Woodville. You’re young and strong and able to do man’s work. With this warmer weather we can sleep on the grounds.”

  Sallie’s two younger brothers puffed with pride and sat up straighter. They missed their home in Mississippi just as much as she did, but she wasn’t as anxious to return as they seemed to be.

  Hannah, Sallie’s younger sister, spoke up. “What can I do to help, Papa?” Her strawberry blonde curls bounced on her shoulders as she wriggled in her chair.

  Papa stroked his chin. “Well, now, missy. Let me see. Mother, what do you think our Hannah can do to help?”

  Mama adjusted the lace cap on her head. “I think we’ll have plenty to do around here to help your grandmother. Besides, you have your lessons.”

  Hannah protested, “Tom and Will have lessons too. It’s not fair. I want to go to Woodville.” She slumped back in her chair and pursed her mouth in a full pout.

  Sallie smothered a giggle. Her twelve-year-old sister’s love of the outdoors amused her, but with her shortened right leg and special shoe, she wouldn’t be much help with the repair work.

  Papa put his arm around his younger daughter and kissed the top of her head. “I know you want to go with us, but you’ll be more useful to your mother and grandmother. I’ll help the boys with their lessons in the evening, and when we come back on a Friday or Saturday, you can show me all you’ve learned during the week. Perhaps you’ll play that piano piece you’ve been working on for me.”

  Hannah beamed at her father. “I’ll practice every day, Papa. It’ll be perfect for you.”

  Sallie grinned and picked up her fork to stab a piece of tender pork. With Hannah, the piano piece would be more than perfect. Her young sister played the piano far better than Sallie, but no jealousy arose because Sallie much preferred reading and writing to practicing scales and such.

  After the meal, dishes clinked on the tray as Lettie carried it out to the kitchen. Sallie followed with a stack of her own. “Let’s get this done in a hurry. I want to get on with writing in my journal and reading my book.”

  “I’m grateful to your mama for helping me learn to read.”

  “She enjoyed teaching you.” Sallie set the dishes on a table beside her mother. Mama stood over a bucket and scraped the remains of food on the plates into it. Sallie and Lettie then arranged the dishes in a wooden tub on the floor. When it was filled, they lifted it between them and carried it out to the summer kitchen. Mama followed behind with the linens and headed for the shed where they did laundry.

  Sallie set the load down outside the little building used for food preparation and cleaning. She planted her hands on her hips. “I heard Mama telling Papa she’s glad to have a farmhouse kitchen in our house in Woodville. Sure is easier for serving and cleaning.”

  Lettie wiped her hands on her apron. “That it would be, but it was hot in the house during summertime. Let’s get the water for Mammy.”

  They each picked up a bucket and raced to the pump near the barn. Sallie tumbled to the dirt with Lettie falling on top of her. They both giggled, and Sallie reached up to touch the ebony braids on Lettie’s head. “I just love the way your braids are so even and straight.”

  Lettie grinned and pushed herself from the ground. “I love the way yours curls all over your head.”

  Sallie giggled again. By all standards she may be a woman of marrying age, but that didn’t matter today. Today she could be a young girl like her sister and simply enjoy life. She had plenty of tomorrows ahead to be a grown woman with wifely duties pressed on her.

  Sallie stood and brushed the dust from her gown. She lifted her skirt and petticoat, and the toes of her black slippers peeked out. “Look at this. Mama’s going to be furious.” She bent down and licked her f
ingers then rubbed them across the toe of her scuffed and dusty shoes.

  Lettie laughed. “I’ll clean them for you this afternoon. They’ll be good as new.”

  Sallie wrapped her arm around the shoulders of the servant girl and laughed. “I’ll help you since I messed them up.”

  When they passed through the pantry area by the dining room, Lettie headed for the back stairway. “I’ll meet you in the parlor later after my chores. I look forward to finishing that story we started.”

  “Me too. I’ll practice on the piano and write in my journal until you can join me.” Sallie strolled into the parlor and over to the piano. Each day Mama taught Hannah reading, writing, French, sewing, and piano just as she had done with Sallie and Lettie. Papa taught the boys arithmetic, reading, writing, and science.

  Even now Sallie wished she had been allowed to learn arithmetic and science too, but Papa didn’t think it necessary for girls to know about such things. He’d always told her, “Young ladies needn’t bother to fill their heads with numbers and experiments. They are better being busy with household matters.”

  Sallie sat down and let her fingers run through the scales on the ivory keys. Lettie had no desire to learn the piano, but she loved the reading and writing time they had together. Sallie silently thanked her mother for including the young Negro girl in their lessons the past few years.

  Now that she sat on the eve of her nineteenth year, school had been left behind, but Sallie hoped to never lose the desire to learn. The music she’d studied gave her such comfort in times of distress. Her fingers now moved with grace across the keys. She might not be as accomplished at the piano as her sister, but she still played quite well.

  As she played, images of Manfred in his uniform danced through her mind. He’d looked so gallant when she’d seen him just after he enlisted back in 1861. She’d been fifteen at the time and quite taken with his handsome good looks in his uniform. How proud they all were of him and his brothers. A chilling tingle raised bumps on her arms. Had something happened to Manfred?

  She bit her lip and clasped her hands in her lap. Manfred, please be all right and come home soon. I miss you so. Tears dropped from her cheeks to stain the front of her dress.

  CHAPTER 3

  * * *

  Point Lookout, Maryland

  MANFRED DOZED as the day wore on. So far nothing major had happened, but still the feeling persisted that something was about to happen. He sighed then blew out his breath. Just another day in the life of a prisoner.

  After the noon meal of the greasy liquid that passed for soup, he opened his journal again and began writing. He extracted Sallie’s last letter from his pocket. If only he had the means to send a letter, he’d tear out a sheet of paper from his journal and send word that he was alive. How worried she and his family must be about him and Edwin and their whereabouts.

  At the end of the letter she’d written a verse. He spoke the words of David from 2 Samuel just under his breath. “The Lord is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; the God of my rock; in him will I trust: he is my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my high tower, and my refuge, my saviour; thou savest me from violence.” The declaration of the beleaguered warrior still brought comfort to his soul.

  Manfred glanced up from the words before him to gaze around the barracks that served as his home. One thing gave him hope for the future of the country. After Manfred had been allowed to keep his Bible, every man who had carried a Bible had been allowed to keep it. At least the enemy had respect and reverence for God. The Scriptures had served all of them well through these terrible months.

  The sudden banging of the door caused him to jump. Four guards marched in. Strange, they usually didn’t return until time for the evening meal, and they carried no weapons. Manfred’s hair prickled at the nape of his neck again. Something had happened. He folded the letter from Sallie and stuffed it into his pocket then stood along with those who were able to do so.

  The four men in dark blue Union uniforms rested at ease, smirking and gazing around the room. They turned to salute as the provost marshall, Major Brady, entered the small building. Dressed in his blue and gold officer’s uniform, the major planted his feet apart and crossed his arms behind his back as the officer’s dark eyes peered at them. A chill went through Manfred. Something mighty big must have taken place for Brady to pay them a personal visit.

  The officer spoke, and his words echoed through the barracks like a cannonball. “We have an announcement that will impact all of you.” He paused with a smirk on his face as the injured and ill sat up and turned their faces toward the officer.

  Manfred glanced at those around him. The thirty remaining men in the barracks all peered at the general with fear, curiosity, and even indifference written across their faces. Edwin’s countenance displayed great anger, and Manfred reached out a hand to calm his brother.

  The general’s voice thundered across the room. “This past Sunday, April 9, Lee surrendered to Grant at the courthouse in Appomattox. The southern rebellion has been defeated by the armies of the United States.”

  Complete silence lasted only a moment before Edwin jumped to his feet. “Lee surrender? Never! This must be a joke.” He grabbed at one of the soldiers. “You’re lying.”

  The man in blue grabbed Edwin, hit him in the face, then shoved him to the ground. Manfred leapt forward and caught his brother.

  “Wait, Edwin, listen to what he has to say.” Manfred turned to the others murmuring behind him. “All of you, be quiet and listen.”

  Edwin shook off Manfred’s hold and glared at the general. The officer stood firm, waiting for their voices to cease murmuring. Manfred stumbled his way back to his mat, tugging Edwin behind him. Finally the confused men stopped their mumbling and turned listening ears to the commander.

  “The war is over, and we have been ordered to begin releasing you by your units. We’ll begin with those from the far southern states first.” Major General Butler paused for a moment. Silence greeted the announcement, and men gazed at each other with mixed emotions flooding their faces. Once again they whispered among themselves. Manfred’s heart beat wildly. They had lost the war, but they were leaving their prison.

  He turned and grabbed Edwin in a bear hug. “We’re going home, little brother. We’re going home.” Tears streamed from his eyes.

  The officer bellowed, “Attention!” All sound stopped again, and the imprisoned soldiers waited for him to speak.

  “You will be carried across the Potomac River to Virginia where you will be exchanged. The sick and wounded will be given transportation as far as it can take them. The rest will be given a canteen of water, a few rations, and a blanket to start you on your homeward journey. The first group of men will be from the Fourth Louisiana regiment. As soon as arrangements are completed for the exchange, we’ll move you out. Gather your belongings and be ready to depart when we are notified, which may be later today or several days from now.” He turned on his heel and strode through the door with his men following.

  Stunned silence enveloped the quarters. The enormity of the announcement sank in; the complaints of only minutes ago became shouts of joy that rang through the building.

  Manfred dropped to his knees and began sorting his few meager belongings. Next to him Edwin sat on his mat with arms crossed and anger burning in his eyes. Manfred leaned across to him. “If Lee has surrendered, it’s all over. The South has lost, but we’re going home.”

  Edwin shook his head. “No! It’s just a hoax to get our hopes up. You’ll see. Lee would never surrender. He’d fight to his death to save the South. They’re just telling us this to see if we will really try to leave so they can shoot us down.”

  “I don’t think this is a hoax. Come on, might as well get your things together.” Manfred patted Edwin’s shoulder then turned back to his task.

  Manfred rolled up the extra pair of socks he had taken from his dead comrade and put them in his small knapsack with his Bible and journal.
He pulled on the boots that had seen better days but would have to suffice for the journey home. He glanced again at his brother, the bitterness evident in the set of the young man’s mouth.

  Edwin sat up straighter and locked eyes with Manfred. “I want to go home, but I don’t want to lose the war. Too many died for us to just give up.”

  “C’mon, little brother. The war is over, and there’s nothing we can do about it but go back to help rebuild our home and our lives. I’m planning to marry Sallie, and you want to court Peggy. We’ll have a good life. You’ll see.” Manfred bent over to squeeze his brother’s shoulder then began gathering a few of Edwin’s possessions.

  Edwin pushed him away and stacked his things on a ragged blanket as he continued to mutter and complain.

  Manfred returned to his own business, but his gaze turned to his younger brother. They were headed for home, but what would they find? He frowned and lifted a prayer that his two older brothers would be there too and that his father’s business hadn’t been destroyed.

  A shadow darkened the mat. He glanced up to see Luke once again standing beside the mat. “Hello, Luke, what can I do for you?”

  The young soldier rubbed his hand across his forehead. “Since your group will be leaving first, I have a favor to ask.”

  Manfred stood and clasped his shoulder. “Of course, I’ll do my best.”

  Worry etched Luke’s brow, and his eyes glistened. “My ma and pa don’t know if I’m dead or alive. I won’t be leaving here until the last of us is let go. That might be a week. If you could stop over at our place and let them know I’m coming home, they’d be mighty proud to give you a good meal and a bed if they have it.”

  Manfred’s arm went around his friend’s shoulders. “We’d be happy to do that. How do we find your folks?”

  “Grayson farm is just a little south of St. Stephens Church about forty miles across the Rappahannock River towards Lynchburg. I’d like for you to give this letter to my mother. There’s a rough map of how to get to our farm with it.”