The Liberator Series Box Set: Christian Historical Civil War Novels

by Stephenia H. McGee

  Michael’s eyes darkened, but he simply nodded. George glanced again at Annabelle, who seemed quite uncomfortable. He remembered again her disquiet earlier. That and the obvious dislike Michael harbored for Matthew made George think that perhaps he should stay until Matthew arrived.

  “You will be leaving us at first light?” Michael asked, the satisfaction in his voice evident.

  Though Michael’s words were a question, they felt more like a command, and George regretted sharing his thoughts of leaving with the man. He’d needed the horse, though. “Actually, upon giving it further thought, I may wait a few days more, so as not to miss my brother in passing.”

  Michael’s face reddened.

  “Surely you haven’t changed your mind?” Annabelle asked, her meaning about his intentions with Lilly clear.

  Leaving such things unspoken, he shook his head. “No, I shall still make the planned journey.”

  She frowned. “Then why wait?”

  His jaw tightened. How to explain his concerns without riling her uncle? He determinedly kept his gaze from flicking the man’s direction. “As I said, since we have not heard from my brother, I think it better I stay until he arrives.”

  Annabelle stiffened, and pressed her lips into a thin line.

  Michael narrowed his eyes. “And what if he does not?”

  George gave Annabelle a reassuring look that seemed to do nothing to ease her distress. He looked back at Michael, annoyed the man could not see—or worse, did not care—what effect his calloused words had on his niece. George glared at the man. “Now that the trial is over, I am sure he is on his way. And as I gave my word to watch over his intended until his return, it would be wrong of me to leave before that promise is fulfilled.”

  Michael spread his hands wide. “Yet, this very morning you stated you were ready to be on your way.”

  He had, but now he saw that it had been a mistake. Though he longed to go after his own ambitions, his selfishness had blinded him to his brother’s needs in Washington. He would not let that happen again. “Yes, though I should not have.”

  Michael’s color deepened. “As you surely have seen, I am capable of caring for my niece.”

  George frowned. “I am not saying anything to the contrary. Forgive me if I have implied otherwise. I mean only to wait for my brother’s arrival and, thus, fulfill my promise to him. I should have never thought to leave early.”

  Annabelle spoke up, her soft voice an attempt to soothe the tension gathering in the room. “I thank you both for your concern for me. Though I am content to be home under Uncle’s care, I understand the promise made between two brothers who are very close.” She looked at Michael. “As my dear uncle was close with my father, I am sure he knows well the duty felt toward one’s brother.”

  Michael softened, and George had to press his lips together to keep expression from his face. Here was a woman who knew how to prod a man in just the right way. Poor Matthew. He might very well have his hands full with this one.

  Michael rose from his chair. “Of course.” He looked at George flatly. “You are welcome here as long as you need.” He tipped his chin to Annabelle. “I believe I will retire now. Good eve, Anna.”

  She inclined her head. “Good eve, Uncle.”

  When he had gone, George rose. “I beg your leave as well.”

  Annabelle came to her feet, and Peggy started clearing the empty, mismatched dishes from the table.

  “You needn’t linger for my sake, George. I know you promised him, but I will be fine.”

  George sighed. “That is likely true.” No sense in telling her he didn’t want to leave her to whatever schemes he thought Michael might cook up. “But since Matthew asked I stay until he comes, and I gave my word to do so, that is what I shall do. I should have never let my own desires make me think to cut that promise short. I’d thought since the trial has ended and surely he would not delay in coming, that it was close enough. That was selfish of me. What I need to do can wait a few days longer.”

  Peggy stepped quietly out of the room with her load, leaving George and Annabelle alone. Annabelle clasped her hands tightly, and the voice that barely reached his ears was strained. “What if he does not come?”

  George frowned. The doubts he’d seen in her eyes gave way to words he’d rather she’d not asked. “What do you mean?”

  She glanced away, but not before he saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes. “When I left, Matthew said he had things to work on…and…well, I haven’t heard from him, and….” Her voice caught and compassion stirred in George.

  George stepped closer and took her elbow. “He will come to you. I know my brother well, and he loves you.”

  She bit her lip and gave a nod, but her eyes did not look convinced. She steadied herself with a determined strength George had come to admire and set her shoulders back. “Then we shall pray he does not continue to dally long.”

  The corner of George’s mouth turned up. “The trial has only just concluded. There is no need to worry.”

  She inclined her head, not offering further comment. She bade George a good night, and then slipped through the door and out to the kitchen where he knew she would work side by side with the woman who had once been her slave. Yes, a mightily changed world, indeed.

  After the last of the day’s light retreated from the sky and robbed George of the ability to read a book he could not focus upon, he settled on his pallet in the guest chamber and once again struggled with the notion of sleep.

  His mind swirled with thoughts of his future and robbed his body of the rest it craved. For long hours George sorted through every possible outcome of what his heart demanded he do, lest he never find peace for the inability to push Lilly from his thoughts. Regardless of what might come, he could not live this way. He’d thought that once he was away from her she would not occupy his mind so often. Then he’d thought that when the Lord had given him mercy and the nightmares had subsided, he would no longer crave the calm her presence offered. But if anything, those thoughts and feelings had naught but increased, smelting him with misery.

  George moaned and rolled to his side, trying to force his mind to still. But when first light finally arrived, he had only managed to grasp at sleep a few scant moments, leaving him tired and ill-equipped for another long day of waiting.

  “Saddened as the country was by the terrible calamity brought upon it by the deeds of these deep-dyed villains, astounded as it has been by the daily revelations of the trial of the criminals, it was doubtless unprepared, as were all here, for the quick flash of the sword of power, whose blade to-day fell upon the guilty heads of the assassins of our lamented president.”

  Special dispatch to The New York Times

  Matthew’s feet ached terribly. Without coin and dressed like a beggar, people avoided him as though he’d brought them the plague. They scurried away from him, turned their noses up, and tried to pass him on the opposite side of the street. At first, he’d continued to try to get someone to listen to his tale, find anyone who might lend an ear of sympathy, but all seemed too laden with their own troubles to care.

  And so he had trudged on, mile after mile that added to the blisters on his feet but brought him that much closer to his Annabelle. He’d been unable to send a telegraph for aid or even acquire a horse to speed his journey. What would she think when he did not return as promised, now that the trial had ended?

  He stopped at the edge of the road and sat on a fallen log, swiping the sweat from his brow. Another town left behind. How long had he been since he’d left Washington? A week?

  He scratched the scruff on his chin. Yes, about a week since the trial had ended and he’d boarded the train where O’Malley had attacked him. Thankfully, it seemed O’Malley had taken him farther south, and not north. He’d emerged from the woods in the foothills somewhere in the southern part of Virginia.

  Yet, for all his long days of walking, he’d not made it much past Charlotte. What would Annabelle think, indeed?
That he had abandoned her? Groaning, he gained his feet once more. He must continue. Every moment he dallied would be another she would spend in worry.

  The dust stirred under his boots, coating them with another layer of earth to add to the evidence of the states he’d passed through—lands devoured by the beast of war, touched by atrocities that men committed. Every place he’d passed he’d heard tales of things that men had done in the fever of war that had caused them to shed their morals and humanity.

  Matthew breathed in deep the Carolina air and breathed out a prayer for peace. And then another for the safety of those he loved. He’d slipped through towns where Union forces handed out food to people desperate enough to endure the taunts and abuse in order to fill their stomachs. Twice he’d had to swallow his pride and slip into one of those lines when he could not coax enough sustenance from nature. What he’d been given made hardtack and old jerky seem a lost luxury. And with every town he passed, his prayers to ward off his hatred for the Blue Bellies only grew.

  Wind stirred his hair around his shoulders, and he had to push it out of his face. If he ever made it back to Mississippi, he would shed these locks he’d grown throughout the war. If only he could shed the memories just as easily. The breeze increased, as if to mock him for such an idea.

  A noise caught his attention, but the crunch of wagon wheels upon the road only heralded another disappointment. Many a traveler had eyed him warily and pointedly ignored his plea for a few moments off his feet.

  He turned to look over his shoulder, briefly wondering if he should duck into the woods and avoid the scorn of another battered soul who now looked on every stranger with suspicion. But he ached from crown to heel and the thought of the slightest possibility of obtaining a ride made him try to shake some of the dust from him and straighten his sweat stained coat.

  The wagon topped the rise, and Matthew caught sight of a man with a long gray beard that reached to the top of his open-collar shirt. Matthew lifted his hand in a friendly wave. Upon seeing him, the man pulled up on the reins and brought two nags at the head of the wagon to a halt. It was more than he had yet to receive.

  Feeling relieved and with a stirring of guarded hope, Matthew began to close the distance left between them. Matthew offered a friendly, though weary, smile and opened his mouth to speak his gratitude that the fellow had stopped.

  The man rose in his seat and pulled out a pistol, leveling it on Matthew. “Hold it there, fellow. What do you want?”

  He should have been prepared for such a thing, but was surprised to realize he hadn’t been. He must be more cautious. Matthew lifted his hands and stilled. “I mean no harm, sir. I only mean to ask for the kindness of a ride, so as to give a rest to my worn feet.”

  The man lowered the weapon a fraction and stared at him. “You are not getting any of my grain, so don’t even think of it. I’ll shoot you if you so much as brush your dirty fingers across it. I swear I will.”

  Matthew slowly lowered his hands. “I don’t wish to take anything from you, sir. I only wish to beg the kindness of a ride.”

  The man lowered the pistol to his side and studied Matthew. “Hmm. Where are you headed?”

  “Mississippi.”

  The man cocked his head. “That’s a long trip, fellow. You trying to make it on foot?”

  “As I was disabled, robbed, and left only with clothing I could scavenge, it would seem that has been my only option for getting back home.”

  He stared at Matthew so long that Matthew thought he may just shoot him and leave his body to rot on the road. “That what gave you that nasty bruise?”

  Matthew reached up to touch the still tender flesh. “He put a chain to my neck and took the air from me.”

  The man watched him, no doubt thinking he had just as likely escaped a lawman’s noose. Finally, the fellow lifted his shoulders. “All right. Climb up. But one suspicious move and I’ll put a bullet through you.”

  Matthew dipped his chin. “Yes, sir. I understand.”

  He climbed up into the buckboard and felt the springs underneath the seat compress with his weight. The man eyed him from beneath the wide brim of his hat, but snapped the reins and they started to roll forward.

  Matthew’s shoulders slumped with fatigue. “I am most grateful to you. Many have taken one look at me and gone the other way.”

  The man’s mustache twitched with a smile, and he seemed to relax a bit as the nags picked up pace. “Yep, I can see as how that would happen. Name’s Carter.”

  Not sure if that was his first name or his last, Matthew replied, “Matthew Daniels. A pleasure, sir.”

  Carter glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “You talk like one of those silver spoon types, though you look like a haggard trapper from the hills.”

  “As I said, I was robbed.”

  The man chuckled. “Well, Matthew, what do you have left in Mississippi that war didn’t take from you?”

  “The lady I pray still waits for me.”

  Carter gave him a knowing look. “I figure many a man is doing the same as you, lad. What part of Mississippi are you headed for?”

  “She resides south of Vicksburg, between there and Natchez.”

  The man nodded. “Well, I can’t take you that far, but so long as you help me load and unload my cargo, I’ll take you as far as Atlanta.”

  Matthew’s eyes widened. He’d not expected anything more than the next town. “I’ll lift whatever you need me to.”

  Carter bobbed his head. “Good man. We’ll make a trade, then. I’ll save your feet, and you’ll save this old back.”

  Matthew rested his elbows on the back of the bench. “A good trade, indeed.”

  Annabelle stared at the disgruntled man at her door. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  The man looked down his nose at her. “I said, you are to allow accommodations for ten of my men.”

  Annabelle blinked at him. She’d heard the words, but had not wanted to believe them. “I’m sorry, sir, but we are not able to host guests at this time.”

  The space between his eyebrows shortened. “It is not a request, miss. This house is being commandeered.”

  Annabelle’s fingers tightened on the doorframe. “As you are aware, the war is over. You cannot force yourselves into my home.” She glanced behind him and glared at the men standing in her mother’s garden. One noticed her regard and removed his polished boot from a daylily sprout.

  “We have orders to be a peace keeping presence,” the man said, drawing her regard back to him.

  Annabelle lifted her chin. “We are already peaceful here, sir, and certainly do not need the oversight of so many men.”

  He took a step closer, his frame towering over her. Annabelle refused to let her unrest show upon her face.

  “The town has no more accommodations available for men on service to this area. Therefore, they will reside in outlying residences while not on duty.” He removed a paper from his coat and waved it at her. “While under martial law, citizens are to comply with our authority.”

  Refusing to be cowed by his demands, Annabelle crossed her arms. “I wish to speak with Lieutenant Grierson prior to these arrangements.”

  The man narrowed his eyes. “For what reason? The orders remain.”

  “Still, as this property has fallen under his temporary authority, I believe he should first be consulted.”

  The man glowered at her. Annabelle forced her gaze to remain calm but firm. Finally, he released a breath that was more growl than sigh and shoved the papers back inside his coat. “Very well. We will remain outside while you prepare the lodging and one of my men goes after the lieutenant.”

  Knowing she would not get a better offer, she inclined her head. “I thank you. My uncle should be in from the rear fields soon, and will speak with you further.”

  He opened his mouth to respond, but she closed the door before he had the opportunity. She slid the lock into place, knowing it would not keep them out should they determine
to enter. Breathing hard, she put her back against the door and looked at Peggy, who was wringing her hands at the bottom of the stairs.

  Peggy hurried over, keeping her voice low. “What they wanting to do, Miss Belle?”

  Annabelle wrinkled her nose. “Take over the house.”

  “Can they do that?”

  Annabelle grabbed Peggy’s hand and pulled her away from the door. “I don’t know. I’ve gained us some time, I think. I only hope that Joshua will be willing and able to help us.”

  Annabelle had only taken two steps up the stairs when shouts from outside sent her running back for the front door. She pulled it open to find Uncle Michael standing nose to nose with the Fed who’d knocked on her door.

  “You’ll leave this land immediately!” Uncle shouted, his face reddening.

  The Federal set his jaw and his hand went for the firearm at his side. Fearing the worst, Annabelle ran from the house, nearly tripping on her skirts in her hurry from the porch. “Uncle! They have already sent for Lieutenant Grierson. He shall be here soon.”

  The two men turned to look at her, then took a step back from one another. The Federal soldier rested his hand on his pistol and regarded Annabelle. “As that is what the lady requested, it is what I have done. Though it will not make much difference. This region is under occupation.”

  Uncle Michael stiffened and Annabelle hurried to take his arm before he deepened their predicament. “Uncle, would you come inside with me, please?”

  He turned fiery eyes on her. “Anna, now is not the time. Can you not see that I must deal with this—”

  Annabelle placed a hand to her forehead and began to sway. As she predicted, Uncle arrested his words and leapt to steady her. “Come, Anna. I will take you indoors.”

  He looked over his shoulder as he took Annabelle’s elbow and glared at the Fed. “Then you and I will continue that which we have begun.”