Conversation at the table fell silent, and Olivia felt much like Aunt Elizabeth must have moments earlier as she’d watched her husband hurt so silently, yet so publicly.
One of the men at the far end of the table, at least twice Ridley’s age, leaned forward. “So tell us, son. Where did you fight?”
Ridley lifted his head, and to Olivia’s surprise, he looked at her, then looked with resolve at the man who had asked the question. “I was stationed in Nashville at the start of the war, sir. But I spent the majority of my time toward the end … at Andersonville.”
Chapter
FIFTY-THREE
The room went still.
Ridley felt like he’d been kicked in the gut by Jack Malone. His heart hammered, his breath would hardly come. The faces around the table were a blur. All but one: Olivia’s. He sought her gaze and held it, finding strength in the compassion and understanding in her eyes.
Although, he knew she didn’t fully understand. Not yet. But she would. Before he left.
An older gentleman a few seats down looked Ridley’s way. “I was stationed at Andersonville for a while too, Mr. Cooper. Three of the hardest months of my life,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know we needed prisons. And both sides had them, but …” He looked down. And when he looked up again, his gaze was watery. “That place was brutal. And … I’m sorry to say, Lieutenant Cooper, but I don’t remember seeing you there.”
“That’s all right, General.” Ridley acknowledged his kindness with a nod. “With all respect, I don’t recall seeing you either.”
The distant clank of pots and pans drifted in from the kitchen and, slowly, Ridley’s heartbeat returned to a normal rhythm. He hadn’t planned on admitting he’d been at Andersonville. But when the questions kept coming, the only way he knew to silence them was with the truth. Or part of it. Now he weighed the cost — not only to himself, but to General Harding — of revealing the whole.
The woman beside him scoffed. “All this talk of Andersonville being brutal …” She shook her head. “Of course it was brutal! It was a prison, for heaven’s sake. And for thieving, lying Yankees. The men who …” Her voice caught, her features twisted. “Who killed my son! We can never allow ourselves to forget what they did. How they —”
“Mrs. Stewart!”
All eyes turned to Elizabeth Harding. Ridley had never heard the woman raise her voice in such a manner. He’d thought earlier that she looked weary. But now she appeared almost too fragile to sit upright.
“Mrs. Stewart,” Elizabeth began again, softer this time. “My heart grieves with yours over the loss of your precious son. I did not lose a son to this war, but I’ve lain seven children to rest, so I am familiar with grief. But let us not forget that all the men who fought and lived, and who fought and died — on both sides — were someone’s sons. Now …” Lifting her chin slightly, she directed her gaze to the opposite end of the table. “To my husband and all the gentlemen in this room, I extend my heartfelt gratitude for your devoted service to our beloved South. But please …” Her voice strained to the point of breaking. “At least for the remainder of this one evening I beg of you …” She smiled or tried to, “Let’s have no more talk of war.”
A while later, retired to the central parlor, Ridley fielded questions from the gentlemen about the auction and the yearlings, always aware of where Olivia was. Which, so far, had been across the room from him and consistently by General Meeks’s side.
Ridley hardly recognized the man. But he didn’t have to think long to understand the motivation behind the changes Meeks had made in his life — and his person! General Meeks was smitten. It was written all over his face. And with good reason. What man in his right mind wouldn’t move heaven and earth to have Olivia Aberdeen beside him? Even if it meant not going to the Colorado Territory.
And yet, Ridley knew that was where he was supposed to be.
“Making foreman in so short a time, Mr. Cooper. That’s impressive.”
Ridley turned back to the group of gentlemen. Specifically General Maddox, the man who’d been stationed at Andersonville. It was sobering to stand face to face with one of his captors, even though he didn’t recognize the man. “Thank you, sir. I’m grateful for General Harding’s trust and appreciate working here.”
“If that’s the case, Mr. Cooper,” another man said, his tone hinting at tongue-and-cheek, “then explain the rumor I heard a few moments ago about you wanting to give all this up for some plan to go to the Colorado Territory.”
Ridley managed to smile. “I see you’ve been speaking with our host.” He glanced at General Harding across the room, who merely lifted his coffee cup in mock salute. “The answer is simple, gentlemen. I’ve always wanted to see the Rocky Mountains and have been making plans to do that for some time.”
“Still,” the man countered, “why not wait two or three years until the railroad is built and go then? I’m fairly certain the mountains will still be there.”
The men laughed.
Sensing an ambush, good-natured though it may be, Ridley shook his head, eager to put the topic to rest. Especially with Olivia just across the room. Thinking of leaving was hard enough for him without seeing that look she always got whenever they discussed it.
“I purchased land in the Colorado Territory four years ago, gentlemen. And if I don’t go now, I’ll lose it. So while I appreciate the opportunities General Harding has given me, I’ll be leaving within a week.”
“I believe I heard my name mentioned.” General Harding joined them. “I hope it was being used in the best sense.”
General Maddox smiled. “Not to fear, Harding. We’d never talk unkindly about you. Not in your own home, anyway,” he added.
The comment drew laughter, as intended.
“Mr. Cooper here,” General Maddox continued, “was telling us about his plans to go west. I think a few of us — myself not included — were questioning his decision. If I were his age and without attachments, I’d be tempted to hop on a wagon and join him.”
“You always have been a bad influence, Maddox.” General Harding smiled, stroking his beard. “I would appreciate you men working on Mr. Cooper here. I’ve done everything I know to encourage him to stay. I even created a new position.”
Ridley tensed. He purposefully hadn’t shared Harding’s offer with Olivia, afraid it would hurt her further if she knew he’d turned it down. If she had her preference, he’d stay here at Belle Meade. But she didn’t know the whole truth. Yet. He looked across the room to where she’d been sitting, but she was gone. He looked around. She stood only feet away now with Mary and Selene and a handful of other women.
“And what position was that, Harding?” Maddox asked. “If Mr. Cooper’s declination is final, I might be willing to come work for you. For the right price.”
Harding laughed. “My friend, there is no price right enough for me to hire you.”
The men laughed all the more, which drew the women’s attention.
“The position I offered Mr. Cooper was that of head foreman of Belle Meade. I offered it to him awhile back. But he turned me down flat.”
Even without looking back, Ridley knew Olivia had heard. He sensed it from the silence behind him. But he knew it for certain when he turned and saw the hurt in her eyes.
Olivia closed her bedroom door behind her and leaned against it in the dark, grateful the evening was finally over. She’d wanted answers to questions, and she’d gotten them tonight. But they weren’t the answers she wanted.
The general had already made an offer to Ridley. Supposedly a very good one. Yet Ridley had refused. That told her plenty right there. Learning he’d been stationed at Andersonville told her even more.
Every Northerner and Southerner alike knew about Andersonville. Reports describing the deplorable conditions of the Georgia prison and the inhumane treatment of Union soldiers there had circulated in newspapers for months following the war. She remembered the public outcry from the
North for one officer of the Confederate prison to be hung for his offenses. And he had been.
The things Ridley must have seen and orders he’d had to carry out. She couldn’t imagine.
She had wanted to see him privately tonight, but with all the guests — and General Meeks — that had proven impossible. As soon as General Meeks had left, she’d looked for Ridley, but he’d already gone. Other guests were still here, visiting in the central parlor or on the front porch in the rockers. But she’d excused herself.
She wanted to see him. Needed to see him. And by the time she looked toward the side window, her decision was already made. She changed out of her dress and into a simple skirt and shirtwaist.
Halfway down the lattice, she heard voices coming from around the corner. And froze. It wasn’t a full moon but she was hanging from the side of the mansion, something that would be a little hard to miss. Much less explain. She scrambled down, watching the side of the house, and as soon as her foot touched the ground, someone clamped a hand over her mouth.
Chapter
FIFTY-FOUR
Olivia started to struggle, then caught a whiff of bayberry and spice at the same time she heard his voice. “It’s me,” Ridley whispered. He loosened his hand and pulled her with him into the shadows against the house. Just then, General Harding and two of his colleagues rounded the corner. “I didn’t want you to scream,” he said, mouth against her ear, his breath warm on her neck. “I was on my way up when you climbed out.”
Pressed against the house — and him — Olivia scarcely breathed as the men approached. General Harding looked in their direction and her heart all but stopped. Ridley tensed beside her. The general said something and laughed, which drew similar responses from his friends, then they continued on, deep in conversation. Pulse still racing, Olivia waited for Ridley to move first.
“Come on,” he finally whispered, then grabbed her hand and set off across the darkened meadow.
All but running just to keep up, she welcomed the strength of his grip, wondering if the sense of adventure buzzing through her veins was anything like what the children she used to watch from her bedroom window felt as they ran and played in the meadow below. Young ladies do not tromp around in fields like livestock, Olivia. You’ll dirty your dress. Remembering her mother fondly, Olivia still couldn’t resist running a little faster. And harder.
Only when they reached the edge of the woods did Ridley slow. He took a path leading down a slight incline, and when Olivia heard the soothing tumble of the creek, she guessed where he was going and felt a sense of déjà vu.
They sat by the edge of the water on a slab of limestone. The same spot where he had washed the blisters on her feet. How long ago that seemed.
He sat quietly beside her, and her feelings were so mixed at the moment she had trouble sorting out what she wanted to say to him first. She was angry he hadn’t told her about the position the general had offered. Head foreman of Belle Meade. Then hurt that he’d turned it down. And in the midst of it all, she wanted him to know that since learning about Andersonville, she understood better now why he didn’t think he could stay here.
But he was mistaken. And she was going to prove it to him.
“Ridley, I —”
“Olivia, I —”
They both paused, then smiled.
“Usually, I would say ladies first. But … in this instance, I think it would be better if I took the lead.”
Detecting an unsettled quality in his tone, she reluctantly nodded. Seconds passed before he spoke again.
“To say that you have … captivated me, Olivia, would be an understatement.” Surprised by how he’d started out, she was glad now he’d spoken first. “The first time I saw you …” He exhaled. “You took my breath away. Then, trapped inside that carriage like you were, then stuck in the window. But still all prim and proper to the hilt, telling me your driver would be back posthaste.” He looked over at her, his voice harboring a smile.
Remembering, Olivia grinned.
“Then we got here. I somehow managed to get a job, thanks to Uncle Bob …” He turned toward the darkened woods. “And to God for knowing what he was doing even when I didn’t. Then I started seeing you around the plantation, and I thought to myself, ‘It sure would be fun to give that woman a hard time for a while. See if I could loosen her up a little.’”
“You did not think that …”
“I did too.”
She swatted him. “That wasn’t nice. I was in mourning!” Even as she said it, she knew he would take it the way she’d intended.
“I know you were. And sometimes I felt bad about doing it —”
“But you did it anyway.”
“I couldn’t help myself. I’d see you with all that propriety bustled up so good and tight … quite literally … and you just brought the worst out in me.”
“So it was my fault then, our becoming …” She grinned and faltered over the word. “Friends.”
He turned to her, and though the darkness hid the precise definition of his features, she was certain whatever humor his expression held, faded.
“First,” he said softly, “whatever we’ve been, at least for me, we’ve been more than friends. Much more. And second, nothing has been your fault. There is fault to be assigned, but it’s mine and mine alone.”
Hearing him use past tense — we’ve been — she sensed the goodbye she’d been dreading inching closer. For a moment, neither spoke and the timeless trickle of the creek filled the empty space.
“When I first got here,” he continued, leaning forward. “I was only planning to stay for a few weeks, and sparring back and forth with you became almost a game. You were so easy to rile, which I found irresistible.” Tenderness softened his voice. “But there came a time when I realized it wasn’t playful for me anymore. It wasn’t a game. I knew if I wasn’t careful, very careful … you were going to turn my world upside down. And me with it. And that was something I couldn’t afford to have happen.”
Anticipating what he was going to say, Olivia felt cut to the quick. A pain twisted her chest. “But I …” She shook her head, forcing out the words. “I didn’t turn your world upside down … did I?” She took a tattered breath. “Not like you did mine.”
He moved closer and took her hand in his. “But that’s just it, Olivia. You did … You turned my world — and me — inside out.”
Hot tears filled her eyes, and she was grateful for the shadows. She wanted to ask him why, then. Why didn’t he care about her enough to stay? Love her enough? But she couldn’t push the words past the tangle of emotion in her throat.
His grip tightened. “The problem is … you don’t know me. It’s not your fault. I haven’t allowed you to see who I am. Or … at least who I was during the —”
“That’s not true.” She swallowed, wiping her eyes. “I do know you, Ridley Cooper. Better than you think.” She squeezed his hand. “I don’t know what you saw at Andersonville, or what you were forced to do there, or what horrible things you experienced during the war. But that’s all over now. You fought for your country, for the South you loved. You did all you could. No matter where you were stationed.”
“But that’s what you don’t understand, I wasn’t —”
She put a finger to his lips. “I do understand. More than you realize. I saw the pain in the faces of the men around that table tonight. I saw it in yours too. How you wish the outcome had been different. I do too, in so many ways. Yet the changes that are happening now … They wouldn’t be, without the war.”
She let her hand drop and took a breath. “But it was wrong what the North did. The Federal army was brutal and cruel, coming in the way they did, stealing and taking everything. Destroying families and homes, tearing lives apart. You saw Aunt Elizabeth tonight. The war took such a toll on her. Especially when the Yankees locked the general in prison.”
Ridley leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees, his head bowed. And her heart ached for
him.
“Ridley,” she whispered. “The North took from you too. But you can have your life back, if you want it. You’re a good man. You don’t have to go to the Colorado Territory to start over. You can do that here. At Belle Meade. With Uncle Bob and the servants and the Hardings and …” She reached for courage to speak past the rubble of the wall now crumbled inside her. “With me.”
Hands knotted in her lap, vulnerable and exposed even in the dark, she watched him, waiting. And slowly, he sat up and looked back at her.
“If there were a way to do that, I would. But … I can’t.”
He rose and stepped toward the creek. She followed.
With disappointment knifing deeper, she sensed the struggle in him and believed she knew how to help. She reached for his hand. He resisted at first, then finally relented. She brought his hand to her face and smiled when he cradled her cheek.
“When you touch me,” she whispered, the tears returning. “You help me forget.”
“Forget,” he said softly. “Forget what?”
“What my life used to be like … with my late husband.”
He stilled, then tried to pull away, but she held his hand where it was.
“Every time you touch me, Ridley …” With unaccustomed boldness, she guided his hand from her cheek down to her neck.
“Olivia,” he whispered. “Don’t.”
“Every time, you erase a little more of the hurt Charles left behind, the pain that comes from being the wife of a traitor. And from the disgrace and shame he left me to bear alone.”
Again, Ridley attempted to pull his hand away, but again she held it fast.
“I think I can do that for you too, Ridley. Help you forget. Forget the war, and all you went through. We could help each other. If only you’d —”
He took her face in his hands, but not gently like before. “Olivia.” His voice came out rough, anguished. “I wasn’t stationed at Andersonville … I was a prisoner there.”
Certain she felt the bedrock shift beneath her feet, Olivia took hold of his arm. She searched his face, wishing now for light instead of darkness. She needed to see his eyes. A prisoner? “That’s not possible,” she heard herself say.
To Whisper Her Name Page 49
