Fire Over Atlanta

by Gilbert L. Morris

  “It’s apple.”

  “My favorite kind!”

  “I’m glad to hear it. This is the last piece,” Tom said and winked at Leah.

  Jeff groaned. “You didn’t eat it all!”

  “Don’t let him tease you, Jeff,” Leah said. “I made two. We’ll have some after while.”

  “How’s Pa?” Jeff asked his brother.

  “Real good.” Tom licked his hand and took another bite of pie. “Somehow pie always tastes better if you eat it off your hand. A fork kind of spoils the taste.”

  Leah said, “I’ll get you a piece, Jeff, and maybe we have some sassafras tea.”

  “That’d be good.” He waited until she was gone and then sat down, looking at his brother. “You think Pa will be able to get back into the fight pretty soon?”

  “You know Pa. He’ll get back as quick as he can. As a matter of fact, I wish he’d stay out of the whole thing.”

  “It looks pretty grim, Tom. I don’t know how much longer we can keep those Yankees out. We’re spread real thin.”

  “And our fellows aren’t doing much better out west of here. Hood’s left Atlanta now, so the word is. But Sherman will catch up with him. Johnston should have stayed in command.”

  “Well, he wasn’t doin’ anything much to stop General Sherman!” Jeff protested.

  “Sherman’s got too many men. All Hood will do is make some kind of a crazy charge and lose half the army.” Tom finished his pie and wiped his hands with a handkerchief. “I’m going outside and split some wood. After you get through with your pie, you can come out and help me with the buck-sawing.”

  “All right, Tom.”

  Jeff met Leah coming out of the kitchen with his pie. “I can just eat it out here in the kitchen,” he said. “It’ll save you bringin’ me another piece.” He grinned at her, took the plate and fork, and said, “Tom, he’s a glutton. He gobbles pie down like a pig. Now me, I got taste.” He took a small bite, put it in his mouth, then lifted his eyes toward the ceiling with appreciation. “Now, that is pie!”

  Leah smiled. “Do you really like it?”

  “I never saw an apple pie I didn’t like—especially yours.”

  They sat at the kitchen table, talking and laughing, until finally Jeff said, “Go take off that dress and put your old overalls on. It’s time to go fishin’.”

  “Why, Jeff, you didn’t say anything about us going fishing.”

  “I thought you knew,” he said in surprise.

  “I can’t go with you, Jeff.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because—I’ve got somebody coming.”

  Jeff stared at her. He suddenly realized she was wearing her silk Sunday dress. It was a peach color and old, but she still looked good in it. “What do you mean, somebody’s coming?”

  Leah hesitated, then smiled roguishly. “Cecil is coming by.”

  “Cecil Taylor? Why’s he coming here?”

  Leah’s eyes gleamed. “He’s coming to see me!”

  “Why’s he coming to see you?”

  “Does it come as a complete shock to you, Jeff,” she asked demurely, “that a young man would like to come and spend some time with me?”

  He felt foolish. “Well …” He floundered for a time. “Well, of course not, but how does he have time to come out here and see you?”

  “How do you have time?” she asked quickly.

  Jeff saw that he was trapped and somehow felt put out. “Well, I planned to go fishing with you …”

  “We can do that tomorrow—unless Cecil comes back.”

  “Oh, I’m good enough to go fishing with if there’s nothing better to do.”

  Moving around the table to where Jeff now stood rigidly, she put a hand on his arm and looked up into his face. She said sweetly, “I’m sorry, Jeff. I didn’t mean to say it like that. You know how much I like to go fishing with you. I always have. But Cecil wanted to come over, and he gets lonesome sometimes.”

  “Well, I get lonesome too.”

  “Do you, Jeff?”

  “Of course I do. Do you think I like being in trenches with those dirty, smelly soldiers? I’d much rather be here with you.”

  “I guess that’s a left-handed compliment.” But Leah again smiled. “You like me better than dirty, smelly soldiers.”

  Jeff felt he was in over his head. “I can’t say anything right today,” he said finally. “So what are you two going to do?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I thought we would look at some picture albums. Maybe we’ll sing some. Cecil has a beautiful singing voice. And I need to give him some more dancing lessons. He’s not very good at dancing, but he’s getting better.”

  At that moment, a knock sounded on the door, and Leah said, “That must be Cecil now. He’ll be glad to see you.”

  As it happened, Cecil seemed not particularly happy to see Jeff. And Jeff was rather grumpy as he said, “Hello, Cecil.”

  “Well, hello, Jeff. I didn’t know you’d be here.”

  “I didn’t know you’d be here either!” He saw that Cecil had on his best uniform, and he asked rather wickedly, “Are you going to another ball?”

  “No, I just came to call on Leah.”

  She said, “Why don’t both of you come into the sitting room? Jeff, you’ve already seen all the pictures, but Cecil would like to see them.”

  Jeff said stubbornly, “No, I’m going fishing.”

  He left the house, slamming the door slightly harder than was necessary.

  Immediately he heard his father’s voice. “Jeff, come here!”

  Jeff lifted his head and saw the colonel leaning out a window. He stomped over to him and said, “What is it, Pa?”

  “Where you going?”

  “I’m going to get a pole and go fishing.”

  “Why don’t you take Leah with you?”

  “I came to do that, but instead Cecil Taylor came to call on her.”

  Nelson grinned. “You better watch out. That young fellow’s gonna to beat your time.”

  Jeff flushed. “Who needs an old girl anyway?”

  Tom leaned over the windowsill beside his father and studied Jeff. “I reckon most of us do.”

  Jeff and his father both glanced at Tom. Jeff knew his brother was thinking of Sarah, Leah’s older sister. Tom had been deeply in love with Sarah before the war. Now Tom’s face was sad, and his thoughts seemed to be a million miles away.

  “I guess most of us do need a lady to make our lives bright,” their father said.

  Jeff stared at the colonel. He knew that the object of his thoughts was Eileen Fremont.

  “I’m going fishing!” Jeff said. He turned around and went toward the barn.

  From his window Colonel Majors watched Jeff come out of the barn with a pole over his shoulder and a can of worms dangling from one hand. Then he turned to Tom.

  “I guess you think about Sarah a lot.”

  “Yes, I do, Pa. I miss her more than I can say.”

  “I know about that. It’s the same way I miss your mother.”

  When Eileen came into the room, the men were playing checkers.

  Tom got up in disgust. “I can’t beat you at this game!”

  “You’re too impulsive. You’ve got to think out your moves,” Nelson said.

  “I’m going out to chop more wood. It’s more fun than getting beat at checkers.”

  After Tom left, Eileen sat down at Nelson’s bidding, and they began another checkers game. She was not very good, and Nelson was an excellent player. Nevertheless, he used the game as an excuse to keep her in his room.

  Eventually they began talking about the boys, and Nelson laid out their problems. His brow furrowed as he talked of Tom’s love for Sarah Carter and his recurring uncertainty about marrying her because he had lost a leg. “And now Jeff’s growing up,” he added, “and you know how hard it is to raise a young boy. I was hard to raise myself.”

  Eileen smiled. “They’re both fine boys,” she said. “You have a fine f
amily, Nelson, and they’re all going to turn out well.”

  6

  Charlie Makes a Decision

  The battle for Atlanta had been terrible. Many buildings were destroyed, and their gutted skeletons pointed like ghostly fingers to the sky. Many citizens had lost their homes. The struggle to rebuild the city had begun. Now, however, Atlanta was a Yankee city rather than one that had been the pride of the Confederacy.

  Mrs. Grace Holcomb, the aunt of Lori Jenkins, was a frail, silver-haired lady in her late eighties. Although she had many friends from a lifelong residency in Atlanta, she was totally without family there.

  Her eyes lit up with gratitude as Lori put her breakfast tray in place. “Lori, I don’t know what I would have done,” she said, and her hands trembled as she reached out to pat Lori’s arm. “You were like an angel from heaven when you suddenly appeared,” she added, smiling up at her.

  Lori had heard that her aunt had been a beautiful woman in her youth, and traces of that beauty remained. She returned Mrs. Holcomb’s smile and poured a cup of tea into a dainty china cup. “I’m just glad I could come, Aunt Grace. It’s good to visit with you and hear the stories of the family.”

  She sat down beside the elderly woman and talked cheerfully, studying the old lady’s face. She doesn’t look well, Lori thought. Every day she seems to get a little weaker, but she never is discouraged. She’s really a wonderful woman.

  “Have you heard from your parents, Lori?”

  “Oh, yes. They say the Yankees are still holding Tennessee. I suppose there’s no hope for the Confederacy there.”

  Aunt Grace sighed. “Such a terrible war. I wish it had never happened. What will happen to the poor South?”

  Lori at one time would have said quickly that the South had not lost the war. Now, however, the news was so bad that she no longer felt that way. Sherman was pursuing General Hood’s troops across Tennessee, and it was just a matter of time before the huge Union Army won over the smaller Confederate force.

  “I don’t think it can last much longer, Aunt Grace,” she said. “Soon it will all be over, and life can go on again.”

  Grace Holcomb’s eyes dimmed as she looked over at her niece. “I hope all goes well for you, Lori.” She nibbled at her toast and then asked, “What about these two young men that you keep talking about? Royal and Drake. Tell me some more about them.”

  Lori’s cheeks grew warm, and she laughed slightly. “Oh, you know how it is, Aunt Grace.”

  “It’s been a long time since I was a girl. But I still remember two boys that got into a fight over me out in the schoolyard.” She smiled gently. “I wonder where they are now. Probably in their graves, both of them. I think of them still. Have they fought over you yet, these two young men?”

  “Oh, yes, but I’m hoping they’ll stop such foolishness.”

  The two women talked while Mrs. Holcomb finished her breakfast.

  “This was so good, Lori. I don’t know how we’re going to manage for food in the future. I don’t have very much money left.”

  “Oh, Daddy gave me plenty of money.” Lori grinned, adding, “It’s all in Confederate money. I don’t know if the Yankees will let us use it or not. And that reminds me—I’ve got to go out and get some groceries.”

  “From what I hear from the ladies that come and visit, most of the shops are pretty bare, and it’s still dangerous for a young woman to be out.”

  “Royal’s coming by. He’ll escort me down to see what we can find. Now, I won’t be leaving you alone. Charlie will be here.”

  “Charlie. What an odd name for a young woman.” Mrs. Holcomb shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t know why she persists in calling herself that.”

  “I expect that’s just what she likes to be called. I tried to call her Charlene a few times, and she seemed very uncomfortable with it. I’ll have her check on you while Royal and I are getting the groceries.”

  When Royal appeared at the door, he was met by Charlie, wearing the same outfit he had seen on her the day she was captured. “Hello, Charlie!” he greeted her. “Is Lori here?”

  “Yep! She’s upstairs redd’n up. She sure is lookin’ forward to goin’ with you.”

  Charlie’s speech had a country flavor to it. Her cheeks were pink, and there was a cheerfulness about her that pleased Royal. Most girls he knew who had had Charlie’s troubles would not have handled them so well.

  Lori came in at that moment, wearing a light green dress and a straw hat with a flower pinned to the top. “I’m ready, Royal.”

  The two started for the door, and Lori remarked as she went out, “Charlie, would you check on Aunt Grace? Be sure that she has all she needs?”

  “Sure, I’ll do that,” Charlie agreed.

  Lori’s aunt was sitting up in bed reading the Bible that was propped on her lap when Charlie came in.

  “Got some lemonade for you, Miss Grace. Not cold, ‘cause we ain’t got no ice, but thought you might like it.”

  Mrs. Holcomb put aside the Bible and smiled at the tall girl. “Why, thank you, Charlene.” As she took the glass, she saw that the use of Charlie’s proper name had somehow embarrassed her. Sipping the lemonade, she studied the girl. The old woman’s sharp eyes went over the crisp, curly, brown hair and the clear, large, dark eyes. The overalls she wore were clean, though patched and faded. She noted that the girl had a fine figure, though disguised by her outlandish garb.

  “This is very good, Charlene. Did you make some for yourself?”

  “Oh, no. I usually drink coffee. Of course, lately we’ve been trying to make coffee out of burnt acorns. Don’t care for that too much.”

  “Did you lose all of your possessions in the attack, Charlene?”

  “Oh, no. I brought ’em. They’re in the room down the hall where Miss Lori put me.”

  “Well … didn’t you have any dresses? I notice you keep on wearing the same overalls every day.”

  “Oh, I’ve got a dress, but I don’t care to wear ’em much. Lots easier to get around in overalls than it is in dresses.”

  Until now, Mrs. Holcomb had spoken only briefly with the young woman. “Tell me about yourself, Charlene,” she said, doggedly refusing to use what she considered the ugly name of Charlie. “Tell me about your family. You have brothers and sisters?”

  “Had two sisters, but they moved off. Me and Pa handled the farm, and they did the cookin’ and the housework when they was home. They was real little, you see, Miss Grace, and I was big and strong.” She nodded proudly. “I can plow as good as most men.”

  “I’m sure you can,” she said. “But didn’t you learn how to cook and do housework?”

  “Oh, I can cook a steak, I guess. Never did much of the housework though.”

  Charlie went on describing her life, which sounded appalling to Mrs. Holcomb. Poor child, she thought. She really doesn’t know the first thing about keeping house. How will she ever in this world make a man a good wife? Aloud she said cautiously, “I think it would be nice if you would dress up for supper tonight. You know … fix your hair and put on the dress …”

  “Oh, I don’t reckon I’ll do that, Miss Grace,” Charlie said carelessly. “Lots of work to do around here. The shells took out some of the fencin’. I been puttin’ it back. And the well curbing got busted too. I got to lay some new curbstones around that if I can get ahold of some cement.”

  “Do you know how to do things like that?”

  “Oh, yes, ma’am, I do. I done that kind of work all my life. There ain’t nothin’ around a place that I can’t do if I set my mind to it.”

  Charlie sat sprawled in her chair in a most unladylike position. She really had none of the feminine graces. For all the striking beauty of her face and attractiveness of her figure, she looked more like a pretty young man than a young woman.

  Finally she got up, took the glass from Mrs. Holcomb, and said, “Reckon I’ll go out and chop some wood. Got to sharpen the ax first, though. It’s plumb dull.”

 
After the girl left, Mrs Holcomb said aloud, “How in the world will she ever survive?” Shaking her head, she picked up the Bible and began reading. After a time she thought of Charlene again, and she prayed a quick, simple prayer. “Lord, make a woman out of that girl. She doesn’t even know that she’s a woman, and she’s headed for some hard times if she doesn’t learn.”

  Drake arrived in front of the Holcomb cottage just as the sun was beginning to set. He had come at Lori’s invitation, and he wore his good uniform. Knocking, he hoped fervently that he would have Lori to himself tonight. When the door opened, however, it was not Lori but Charlie Satterfield who stood there.

  “Why, howdy, Drake!” she said and stuck out her hand out like a man. “Come on in the house.”

  Rather taken off guard, Drake found his hand grasped firmly. Charlie’s handshake, he discovered, was not like a young lady’s but was strong and firm. His hand was pumped up and down, and then he was propelled into the house by a quick jerk.

  “Uh … thank you, Charlie,” he mumbled. He noted that she was still wearing overalls. She wore a man’s white shirt, and the brown hair framing her face was very curly.

  “Miss Lori’s gettin’ herself all cleaned up,” she announced. “You know Mrs. Holcomb’s got a copper bathtub?”

  “No, I didn’t know that,” Drake said as he followed Charlie, who strode with long, purposeful steps to the sitting room.

  “Yep, that’s right. I het water for it and filled it up so she could have a good all-over bath.” Charlie waved at a red plush chair and waited until Drake had lowered himself into it. Then she turned a smaller chair around and straddled it. “That’s right,” she said. “It took me about ten trips with a teakettle, but I got it all hetted up. She sure ought to be clean with all that hot water and soap and all that perfume and stuff she uses. Sure is a sight of trouble. Don’t see no need of it myself.”

  Drake studied the girl cautiously. He had not spoken with her except for a brief greeting since he had captured her, and now he asked, “Uh … how are you getting along, Charlie?”

  “Me? Oh, I’m doin’ fine. I’m helpin’ around the place here, don’t you see? Miss Grace, she ain’t feelin’ well, and Lori, she has to take lots of care of her. So I chop the wood and milk the cow and do everything that needs doin’. Not much work around here though. Back home we had forty acres. Wasn’t nothin’ for me to get up and plow from sunup to sundown.” She teetered back and forth on the chair. “I sure do miss my mules! Buddy and Bob their names were. Best set of mules in the state of Georgia.”