“I don’t have any plans for proposals at this time,” Laura said, shaking her head. “You misjudge me.”
Carissa pushed back her plate. “I don’t think so. I think you are just out of sorts, sister. From what I understand, there have already been many suitors who have called to pay you court and now there’s Brandon. You needn’t fear being a spinster for long.”
Laura rolled her eyes. “This is impossible. I’m not concerned about being a spinster. I’m concerned for your welfare. If your fiancé is up to no good, you should know that.”
“I’m only a woman and can hardly judge whether his actions are good or bad. Now, let’s put this unpleasant topic behind us. I want to talk about the wedding.” She smiled and got to her feet. “Come. I think we should have Carlita work with our hair and see what style would best suit.”
“I haven’t yet finished my breakfast,” Laura said, feeling a great sense of frustration. “You go ahead. I know that’s all you care about.”
Carissa gave a pout. “It isn’t all that I care about. But this is my wedding. I’ve dreamed of it my entire life. You could at least pretend to be happy for me.”
Her words brought immediate guilt to Laura’s heart. Abandoning her food, Laura went to Carissa and took hold of her hands. “I am happy for you. I’m also quite worried. You and Malcolm haven’t known each other very long. I simply want you to be certain that this is the plan God has for you.”
Carissa’s expression lightened. “I say my prayers same as you, so it must be God’s will.” She gave Laura’s hands a squeeze. “Now, please come with me and tell me what style will look best with my veil. I think curls will be the most charming.”
Malcolm Lowe inspected the barrels with great interest. Black powder from Mexico hadn’t been easy to secure, but it was slowly trickling in. His men had been able to smuggle a few barrels in over the last couple of weeks, but he knew they would need a great deal more if they were to accomplish all that they wanted.
“How soon can we get another load?”
One of the men standing nearby shrugged. “Anything can be had for enough money.”
Malcolm nodded. “Then we shall have to work to raise funds.” He looked at another man. “Do you have any ideas?”
“There are several families in and around the area who supported the Union. They’ve managed to reclaim their wealth after hiding it in the North or elsewhere. I say we form a plan to steal and sell what we can get.”
Malcolm considered this for a moment. “If we work it right, we can have the blacks do it for us. There are a number of the black soldiers who are happy to help for a few coins. I think we could arrange for their assistance, and in turn, all of the blame would fall upon them if they were to be caught.”
“We can move the stuff to New Orleans, where it would be easier to sell,” another man chimed in. “My uncle could help us with that.”
“It might even be possible to trade the goods in Mexico,” Malcolm suggested. “Either way, it’s probably our best chance.”
“So when do you think we’ll have enough gunpowder set aside?” someone asked.
Malcolm looked at the ledger he’d been keeping. “If I have my way about it, we’ll collect enough to do the job by Thanksgiving. And how better to celebrate that ridiculous Northern-imposed holiday? Lincoln might be dead, but I weary at the way his mistakes keep burdening us.” Several of the men grunted in agreement. “Southern folks don’t need a Yankee holiday to celebrate being thankful.”
Putting the ledger aside, Malcolm smiled. “Still, we will overcome. As you know, I’m to be married in a couple of weeks. The Marquardts have proven to be very useful in providing information, and now that my fiancée’s sister is being called upon by a former Union captain, I believe I shall have even greater chances to gather information. Sometimes the most innocent comment over dinner can be helpful.
“What’s most important, however, is that we not waiver from our plans. We must press forward, and we must do what we can to teach the Yankees a lesson they won’t soon forget.”
“I’m all for that,” one of the men said. “It’s about time they pay for what they did to us.”
Malcolm smiled. “As far as I’m concerned, that very thought is worth any amount of sacrifice or bloodshed.”
10
The morning of September ninth dawned with a gentle sea breeze and cooler temperatures. Laura felt relieved—despite her trepidation over Carissa’s marriage, at least the day wouldn’t be completely unbearable. Of late the temperatures had hovered near or over one hundred degrees with equally high humidity. This would be a welcome break.
As she sent prayers of thanksgiving for the weather, Laura couldn’t deny the sense of foreboding that overcame her. She decided to make one last attempt to persuade Carissa to reconsider.
“You know, if you have any concerns about marrying Malcolm, you could still decide to postpone the ceremony.”
Carissa looked at her in complete puzzlement. “You are such a ninny, Laura. Of course I’m going through with this. Goodness, but by now the church will be nearly full.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to go through with the wedding,” Laura said as Carissa toyed with her veil.
“I am going to marry Malcolm,” Carissa stated matter-of-factly. “I love him.”
Her sister’s certainty did nothing to calm Laura’s concerned heart. “Please let me know if you need anything.” Laura stood back, then drew out the folds of Carissa’s bishop sleeves. “You hardly know how to care for yourself, much less an entire household.”
“Oh, don’t be such a mother hen,” Carissa replied, seeming almost dazzled by her own appearance in the mirror. “I can take perfectly good care of myself and of Malcolm. Now, where are my gloves?” She looked for a moment atop the vanity, then looked to her bed. “I know they were here just a moment ago.”
Laura would have laughed at the frantic search that ensued had it not been such a poignant reminder of what she was sure would be Carissa’s life as a wife. Once the gloves were located on the opposite side of the room, Laura breathed a sigh.
“Are you ladies ready?” their father called through the bedroom door.
Carissa hurried to admit him and Laura took that moment to glance at her own reflection in the mirror. The iridescent pink gown had a rounded but modest neckline, and the bishop sleeves were capped with lace at the shoulder. The waistline came together in a V of delicate ruching that made Laura look quite slender. From there, the simple skirt belled out and fell gently to the floor. Their mother had wanted the gown to have flounces of lace and additional ruching in the skirt, but Laura had insisted the bodice was creative enough and that the focus was, after all, to be on Carissa.
“My, don’t you both look lovely,” their father said.
Carissa grasped his elbow. “I’m so excited. I can’t believe this day has finally come.”
“Nor can I. My little girls are all grown up.” His smile was rather sad. “I remember when we used to go to the beach to fly kites and search for shells.”
“Oh, so do I,” Carissa said, nodding. “I will always have the best memories of my girlhood days. Won’t you, Laura?”
Laura nodded, still unable to shake a feeling of sorrow. “I’m sure one day you will fly kites with your own children.”
“Of course,” Carissa replied. “Now help me pull the veil over my face, and let’s get to the church. I don’t want to keep Malcolm waiting.”
Laura did her sister’s bidding. “You two go ahead. I’ll be right there.”
As they departed, she went quickly to her dresser, where delicate white crocheted gloves awaited. “I will not begrudge her this day or interfere in it anymore,” she said aloud to no one.
She drew a deep breath and made her way to the carriage, where Carissa was already nervously waiting for Laura to join her. Their father handed her up, and once Laura was seated, the driver put the horses in motion.
Very little was said on the way
to the church, but Laura could see that Carissa was more than a bit nervous. She wondered if it was just normal bridal jitters or if her sister was finally feeling a little apprehensive about what she was doing. Perhaps Carissa was only pushing for the early wedding to please their mother. But then Laura thought better of this. Carissa wasn’t generally given to pleasing anyone but herself.
When they finally arrived, Laura couldn’t help but lean over and whisper, “This is forever; make sure you know what you’re doing.”
She couldn’t see Carissa’s expression well through the Chantilly lace, but a slight nod of her sister’s head told Laura that she had heard and understood. Laura shrugged and gathered her skirts to climb the church steps. If Carissa wanted to marry a man she hardly knew, she would have to bear the consequences.
The church was packed to capacity, and although the ceremony was brief, Laura couldn’t deny she’d never seen Carissa happier. After a brief kiss the happy couple turned to be presented to the congregation. As the guests moved forward to congratulate the bride and groom, Mother stood to one side weeping softly while Father tried his best to comfort her. Laura frowned. Could it be that their mother also worried about Carissa’s welfare?
“You are quite beautiful, despite the frown.”
Laura looked up to find Brandon Reid in a wonderfully tailored blue suit. The rich cut of the cloth hugged his broad shoulders, and Laura found herself longing to touch him.
“Thank you, I think.” She tried to collect her thoughts.
“What seems to be the problem?” he asked. Following her gaze, he studied the bride and groom.
“I fear my sister is far too immature to know the full weight of responsibility she’s just taken on. She says it is because I’m jealous, but I honestly feel otherwise.”
“Jealous that she’s marrying Malcolm Lowe?” he asked, teasing.
Laura shook her head and smiled. “No, jealous that she’s marrying before I am. She thinks I’m worried that this wedding will somehow solidify my spinster status.”
He laughed out loud, causing several people to look their way. Laura couldn’t help but grin as she looked up at him. “You’re causing a scene. Now everyone will think we are sporting fun of the happy couple.”
“Nonsense. They’ll most likely worry that you’ve said something risqué.”
Laura shook her head and changed the subject. “You will attend the wedding festivities at our home, won’t you?”
“I wouldn’t miss it. You’ll be there.” He took hold of her arm and led her toward the back of the church. “Have I mentioned that you are quite beautiful?”
“I believe you did say something about that,” she said.
“Oh, Laura, don’t you look pretty,” Mrs. Tennyson declared. “Why, you look just like an angel.”
“I wholeheartedly agree,” Brandon commented before Laura could reply. “I was just admiring her myself.”
Mrs. Tennyson looked at Brandon and smiled. “Perhaps there will be another wedding soon?”
Laura wanted to crawl into a hole. The woman was putting Brandon most uncomfortably on the spot. To her surprise, however, he handled it with great finesse.
“Perhaps. One can never tell where Cupid’s arrow will land.”
Mrs. Tennyson laughed and nodded. “That is true. Will we see you at the reception, Captain Reid? I had feared rain, but it looks to be a clear day—perfect for celebrating.”
“I will most assuredly be there,” he replied. “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.”
She nodded knowingly and looked back at Laura with a smile. “You have him quite charmed, my dear. Quite charmed.” With that she hurried away, and Laura let out a sigh of relief.
“She’s right, you know,” Brandon whispered in her ear.
Laura shivered with delight at the warmth of his breath against her skin. “Whatever do you mean?” Laura wished to hear him tell her again that she was beautiful.
“She said it looked like rain earlier,” he replied with a wink. “But now I believe we are in for a most . . . beautiful . . . rewarding day.”
Laura carried Brandon’s words with her throughout the morning and into the afternoon. By the time the cool of the evening was upon them and torches were being lit in the yard in preparation for the dance, Laura found herself longing to slip away with this tall, handsome man. Was she in love? She couldn’t help but wonder. Whenever she caught sight of Brandon, her heart picked up its pace and her breathing quickened. Not only that, but her stomach felt as though it were being flipped over and over. Either she was in love or she was ill. Still, it seemed silly to imagine herself in love so quickly. Hadn’t she chided Carissa for that very same thing?
“I suppose romance makes ninnies of us all,” Laura murmured to herself.
Slipping into the house for a change of shoes, Laura began to realize just how important Brandon had become to her. They’d only known each other for just over two months, but she was already impressed by his intelligence and kindness. Brandon embodied so much of what she’d prayed to find in a husband. He was good-natured, honorable, and well informed. He loved God and cared deeply about all humanity despite the color of their skin. Not only that, but Brandon never seemed to mind Laura’s endless questions about his childhood and home. Even when she’d asked if he’d ever been serious about a young lady up north, Brandon had answered without hesitation.
“There was one young woman,” he’d said, appearing to lose himself momentarily in thought. “She was beautiful with golden hair and blue eyes. She was as pretty as a doll and just as delicate.” Laura had felt a moment of discomfort as he continued. “I thought for sure I would spend the rest of my life with her. I think our parents thought so, too.”
Laura cleared her throat uncomfortably to ask, “What happened?”
Brandon shrugged and smiled. “She wasn’t inclined to wait for me.”
“Until after the war?” Laura was almost afraid to know the answer.
He shook his head. “No, for the fifteen or so years we needed to grow up. I was only seven at the time and she was five. At sixteen, she ran off with a riverboat captain while I was away at school.”
Laura then had realized the silliness of her jealous heart. However, she had simply replied with all seriousness, “Her loss.”
Now, with a more comfortable pair of dancing shoes secured on her feet, Laura made her way back downstairs and through the house. Passing by an open window, she heard her brother-in-law speak.
“So did they deliver everything we asked for?”
“That last shipment was a good one,” a man declared.
“He’s right. There’s enough powder there to blow the Yankees to kingdom come,” another added.
Laura knew it was foolish to linger, but she couldn’t help but await her brother-in-law’s reply.
“We will move ahead then. Perhaps if the supplies continue to come regularly, we can even arrange to complete our plans earlier than we’d originally thought . . . say the early part of November. But just remember, secrecy is of the utmost importance. We don’t want anyone snooping around, trying to figure out what we’re about.”
What are you about? Laura wondered, leaning back against the wall lest anyone see her from the window. She backed away and returned to her upstairs bedroom. She didn’t want anyone to observe her exiting the house; the last thing she wanted was to arouse Malcolm’s suspicions. It was clear he was plotting against the Northerners, but at this point she didn’t have any proof. It would be her word against his.
For several minutes she paced her room, wondering whom she should speak to. If she told her father, he might make a scene. The last thing Laura wanted to do was ruin her sister’s wedding celebration. Then again, maybe no one would believe her.
She thought of Brandon. “I could tell him,” she whispered. “He would believe me.” Sitting on the edge of her bed, Laura considered what she might say to him. He would likely feel it necessary to report this to his former superiors.
And what would happen to her sister then, if they decided to investigate her husband?
“But I can’t just remain silent,” she continued. “Something needs to be done. If I say nothing and people are killed, their blood will be on my hands.”
A ruckus sounded from outside her open bedroom window, sounds of shouting and angry replies. She peered out and watched as her sister’s reception turned into a free-for-all. Men were swinging at each other as if the war had started anew on the Marquardt lawn.
Laura strained to see in the glow of the torchlight. It was nearly dark, but she could make out several angry former Confederate soldiers surrounding a tall man who stood in their midst.
Closer inspection revealed that the victim was none other than Brandon. Laura gasped and put her hand to her mouth. Whatever had happened to cause Brandon to fight? She watched in fascination as Brandon easily put down two men who attacked him at the same time. For such a tall man, he was surprisingly agile.
When the others saw how easily he’d landed the first two on their backs, they seemed to calm a bit. Laura saw her father move in to break up the fight. She could hear him speaking but couldn’t make out what he was saying. Laura felt confident that whatever had happened to stir this situation into violence must have been quite important.
Brandon watched the disgruntled men walk away, knowing that he’d just made new enemies. All he had said was that the former Confederates needed to accept their defeat and look to building a new future. He’d thought it a reasonable statement, but he knew in their eyes it was anything but.
He glanced around, hoping that Laura hadn’t witnessed the altercation. He wasn’t proud of the fact that he’d been put in the middle of it. He’d tried hard for her sake to ignore the snide comments given by those who clearly still believed themselves to be at war.
“That looked interesting,” Laura said, joining him from out of nowhere.
“I was just standing here hoping you hadn’t seen my indiscretion,” Brandon admitted.
Touching the Sky Page 9
