“You’re a lucky chap, Dent,” Major Franklin commented with a nod. He liked the young man enormously and said, “Bring your bride over to our place tomorrow. Amy’s invited the whole clan, so you may have to fight over a plate. Where’s your father? I want him there with all his bunch. Well, you can tell him his sister said to be there or she’d take a stick to him.”
“I’ll tell him, sir,” Dent assured him. “It’ll be good to have the whole family together.”
“I’m having one of those picture-taking fellows come over, too. Hard enough to get our tribe together under normal circumstances. Now with this war, this may be our last chance.”
Though Franklin didn’t say so, Dent Rocklin knew that his uncle was obliquely referring to the fact that some of them might be killed. However, he said only, “I’ll give the fellow my best side.”
Franklin glanced at him sharply, then smiled. “I’m glad to see you’ve not let your wounds make you bitter, my boy.”
“I’ve got a lot to be thankful for,” Dent said thoughtfully.
“I could be in one of those graves out there where so many of our people are. And I’ve got Raimey.” His reference to his new bride brought a light of pride into his eyes, and he added, “She’s changed the world for me. If I ever amount to anything, it’ll be her doing.”
“A fine woman! Well, you come prepared to stay at least two or three days.” He nodded, then left saying, “See you tomorrow, Denton.”
At once Dent went to locate the second platoon and found their sergeant, Waco Smith, giving them a final word of warning. “If any of you think you can get by with gettin’ back late,” the tall Texan stated acrimoniously, “or so drunk you can’t shoot straight, get it out of your mind. The Yankees are headin’ this way, and this heah squad is gonna stop ‘em.” He might have said more, but he glanced around to see Dent and said, “Lieutenant, you want to tie a bell to any of this bunch so’s we can find ‘em when we need ‘em?”
“I don’t guess so, Sergeant.” Dent grinned, winking at the men. He waited until Smith dismissed them, then went to his father. “I’ve got a message for you,” he said quickly. “Major Franklin said to tell you that Aunt Amy commands your presence at Lindwood tomorrow.”
Clay grinned suddenly, his bronzed face looking younger. “That sister of mine always did boss me around,” he said. “She summoning just me—or the whole crew?”
“It’s the whole family. There’s even a photographer coming to get a picture.”
“Will you and Raimey be there?”
“Oh, sure,” Dent said. “And the Bristols, too, I think. The whole clan of Rocklin—or the Southern branch of it, anyway.” He hesitated, then spoke his thought aloud. “I think Aunt Amy has the idea that if we’re ever going to get a picture of all of us, it better be now.”
“She may be right about that,” Clay said. “Well, we’ll be there.” The two men separated, Dent going hurriedly to the small house that Samuel Reed, his father-in-law, had insisted on renting for the new couple. It was a very small white house close to the Reed mansion, but it had been a haven for Dent and Raimey. When he paid the cabdriver and walked toward the house, the door opened and Raimey came flying out, throwing herself into his arms.
“Dent!” she cried out, and even as he crushed her in his arms, he marveled at her movement. How did she know I’d catch her? he wondered, but their short time of marriage had taught him that Raimey’s loss of vision had not limited her courage or imagination.
“Hey!” he said when he had kissed her, “let’s get out of this cold.” Keeping his arm around her, he listened as she spoke quickly and with great animation. Dulcie, her maid from childhood, was standing inside with a smile. “Dulcie, how are you?” he said.
“Better than you gonna be if you don’t get out of that cold and snow!” she said sharply. She worried him out of his coat, then hustled the two of them into the tiny dining room, where she and Raimey began feeding him at once. She practically shoved her two charges into their chairs. “Now you two set there and eat!”
The two of them ate the tender pork chops, fried squash and onions, boiled snap beans with ham hock, and a plate of thickened, greasy chicken gravy. Afterward, they topped the meal off with a dish of pickled peaches studded with cloves. Raimey ate little but told Dent what she had been doing as he ate. She ended by saying, “We’re going to Lindwood tomorrow for a few days.”
Dent was amused. “I thought I’d give you that news. Uncle Brad just told me when we left camp.”
Raimey smiled slyly. “Oh, Aunt Amy and I have been planning it for a long time. It’s going to be so nice, Dent!” Raimey had never had a large family, and she had claimed the Rocklins as her own family almost as soon as she and Denton were engaged. “We’ll go there first thing in the morning so I can help with the work.”
Dent leaned back in his chair and studied her as he sipped his coffee. It never ceased to amaze him how this girl had managed to fill his life. He knew himself well enough to realize that if she had not come along and offered her love when he was in the hospital, he would probably not have lived. Their honeymoon had been a revelation to him, for he had learned for the first time to give instead of always taking. It had been mutual, though, for Raimey had given herself so completely in every way that both of them had understood that they had that most rare possession—a marriage that was a union of both flesh and spirit.
Now he said to tease her, “Well, I guess you’re tired of me, Raimey. Too bad! I thought our honeymoon would last longer.”
“Why—what in the world does that mean?” she asked, startled.
“Just that you could have me all to yourself here in this cozy house—but you’d rather go spending time with all those people.”
Raimey’s quick ears picked up on the teasing note in his voice, and she said instantly, “You’re spoiled, that’s what you are! I declare, I’m going to have to teach you how to behave, Dent Rocklin!”
Then she came to him and bent over to kiss him. “Now that’s a lesson I’d gladly be given again,” he said huskily and pulled her into his lap. When Dulcie came to glance in, wondering at the sudden silence, she quickly pulled her head back and nodded with satisfaction.
The next morning they arose late, had a leisurely breakfast, then loaded into the sleigh and started for Lindwood. Dulcie, as a matter of course, was going, for she had been Raimey’s eyes for years. She sat in the back, enveloped in a blanket, while Dent and Raimey sat in the front. As they made their way along, Dent found himself describing for his wife the things he saw. In the process, he noted that he was seeing things much more clearly, picking up things that he would have previously ignored. He told her of the red fox that appeared, dapper and neat, with the limp form of a rabbit in its mouth. And he described the sprightly running of a buck and two does as they seemed to float effortlessly on their way. It was a source of happiness to him to be able to bring the world to her. For she had given him so much—his faith, his joy … his life.
By the time they reached Lindwood, the snow was falling in tiny crystalline flakes, frozen crumbs, actually. The wind blew them so that they stung Raimey’s face, and she laughed in delight. “I love snow! Maybe we’ll get snowed in and have to stay a week!”
“That’d be rough on Brad and Amy,” Dent said, laughing. He glanced around, seeing several sleighs, then added, “Looks like the others are here already.” He stopped the team, and several of the slaves were there to take charge of them. Dent, Raimey, and Dulcie hurried inside, where they were met by Rachel. “Hello, Rachel,” Dent said, helping Raimey off with her coat. “Beginning to snow.”
“Hello, Dent,” Rachel said. She smiled and went to Raimey, taking her hands. “Raimey, your hands are frozen! Come along to the fire.” She led the two of them through the foyer and into the large living room that faced the front. “Here’s Dent and Raimey,” she announced. “But Raimey’s got to help me—so you get your visiting over quick.”
Jake had taken a seat
beside one of the large bay windows, saying as little as possible. He watched as the blind girl made herself a part of the group with ease, identifying everyone instantly by their voices. Her beauty was truly striking, and the proud look on Dent Rocklin’s face as he watched his wife told him that here was a man who was very much in love.
Everyone greeted Dent and Raimey, and as the small talk ran around the room, Jake let his eyes pass over the group, making sure he knew them all. Vince had drawn a family tree when he’d first drilled Jake, and now it jumped into his mind. The founder of the family, Noah Rocklin, had died, but he’d left four boys and one daughter. Stephen owned a factory in the North, and his brother Mason was a Union officer, so Jake had not tried to fix them in his mind. Mark, Noah’s youngest son, was sitting on a horsehide couch talking to his sister, Marianne. Mark had never married, so Jake had been able to remember him easily. Marianne, the only daughter, was fifty-one and still a striking woman with black hair and blue eyes. Her husband, Claude Bristol, was of French blood and reminded Jake of the things he had heard about French aristocrats—for the man was handsome, smooth, and useless. He was pleasant enough, but there was none of the toughness in him that Jake had seen in the Rocklins. From what Jake had been able to gather, Claude spent his life hunting, raising fast horses, and working as little as possible.
Their three children—Paul, Austin, and Marie—did not favor each other at all. Indeed, they were totally different in appearance. Paul, at thirty, was the oldest and looked like his mother. Austin, who was only one year younger, was short and strongly built, with light hair and brown eyes. His sister, Marie, twenty-four, had curly brown hair and hazel eyes. The two young men were not in the army, which seemed to be somewhat of a matter of embarrassment for their mother—though not for their father. Claude was saying, “Why, the whole thing will be over soon! No need for these two to interrupt their lives for such a short enlistment.”
Marianne looked over at Amy and Brad, then at Clay, both of whom she knew had sons in the army. Her blue eyes were filled with what seemed to Jake to be disappointment, and he felt that she was ashamed of her husband for being a weak man. “I don’t agree with that, Claude, and I suspect no one else does, either,” Marianne said quietly. She glanced at her brother Thomas, who was not well enough for going out in the cold but had insisted on coming. “Did I tell you I got a letter from Gideon, Thomas?”
Thomas shook his head. “No, Marianne. What’s he doing?”
“He’s gone to serve with some general called Grant in the West.”
“Grant?” Thomas asked with a frown. “Never heard of him. But I don’t think we have to worry about that sector. President Davis has appointed Albert Sidney Johnston to serve as commander in the West—which seems to be a mistake, at least to me.”
“Why is that, sir?” Clay asked. He was standing at the mantel, looking trim and fit. Jake studied him briefly and thought that at the age of forty-one, Clay Rocklin was finer looking than most of the younger men in the room.
“Oh, the war is here, in Virginia,” Thomas said with a shrug. “This is where they’ll hit us with everything they’ve got. As soon as McClellan gets the Army of the Potomac ready, they’ll be knocking at our door. That’s where we need to concentrate our armies, not off in the wilderness in Tennessee.”
Clay shot a quick look at his brother-in-law, Major Franklin. The two of them had talked about this matter earlier, and now Clay said carefully, “Well, no doubt you’re right about the Yankees hitting us here. The Northern papers are all calling for it. But they’re not foolish, Lincoln and his generals—especially General McClellan. They know they’ll have to divide the Southern states to win.”
“How can they do that, Clay?” Thomas asked. He had been so disappointed in this tall son of his for years, and now that Clay had come back from a wild youth and had become a strong man of honor, he listened carefully to him.
“Brad thinks they’ll try to get control of the rivers.”
“Rivers?” Marianne asked with a puzzled frown. “Why would they do that?”
Brad Franklin was wearing his uniform, and there was a soldierly look in his thin face as he answered. “Because you can move armies and material on rivers, Marianne. The North has built up a tremendous railway system, but we have almost no Major lines. The only way we can move men and munitions is either by rivers or overland. Some of the food Rachel is cooking came down the Cumberland and the Tennessee rivers—from Kentucky and Tennessee. And if the Yankees get control of those rivers, we’ll be cut off here.”
Grant Franklin, oldest son of Brad and Amy, said, “I’ve heard that we’ve got some forts on those rivers to keep the Yankees away.”
“Well,” Clay said thoughtfully, “they’d better stand, because if we lose those rivers, we’ll probably lose Nashville. Then the Yankees can bring their troops all the way down the river—and they can get a foothold on the Mississippi itself.”
“And if they get the Mississippi,” Franklin continued, “they’ll cut the Confederacy in two.”
Thomas Rocklin looked at the two men, then shrugged. “Well, we’ll just have to fight them off.”
“And any Southern soldier can whip any six Yankee soldiers!” Lowell Rocklin said. He was, at the age of eighteen, a throwback to his great-grandfather Noah Rocklin—determined and stubborn. “Isn’t that so, Dent?”
Dent Rocklin, who had gone through the fires of battle at Manassas, shook his head. “Well, Lowell, I know it’s popular to say that, but I don’t agree. At Bull Run, the Yankees came at us like fury. I suppose there were some who ran away—but some of our fellows ran, too. I wouldn’t count on the Yankee army running away.”
“But we’re fighting for our homes, Dent!” Lowell argued. “That’s got to make a difference.”
“It does,” Dent said quietly. “And I’m praying it’ll make enough difference to cause the Yankees to decide that we’re not worth the cost. After Manassas, I think both sides looked at the war differently—but after so many men have died, we all know this war’s not a little skirmish. The Yankees have it over us in men and munitions. But it’s an unpopular war in the North for many people.”
“So we just have to kill enough of them to make them call the war off? Is that it, Dent?” Thomas asked. Then he shook his head, adding, “It’s a grim business. Here are the three of us”—he nodded toward his brother Mark and his sister, Marianne—“in the South, and Stephen and Mason in the North, with Mason in a Federal uniform. Now all of our sons and grandsons are headed to the battlefield, some on opposite sides.”
He looked tired and ill, and Susanna Rocklin, his wife, moved to his side. “God will bring us through it, Thomas. Now let’s talk about something besides the war.”
“Just one more word—about the war, I mean,” Brad said. “Most of you don’t know, but Vince is joining the Confederate Army soon.”
Jake suddenly felt very exposed, for every person there turned to stare at him. He felt like some sort of strange and exotic animal that someone had suddenly brought into the room! Nothing had shown more clearly how alienated Vince Franklin had become from his family than this moment, when Jake saw incredulity and shock in some of the faces.
Clay said quickly, “Why, that’s fine! You’ll be enlisting in your father’s regiment, I suppose?”
Jake cleared his throat, finding it difficult to think with so many watching him. “Well, probably not. I’m not tough enough for an infantry company.”
“Cavalry?” Dent asked, his eyebrows going up. He almost mentioned the fact that Vince had never been a horseman, but said instead, “Well, that’s not a bad idea. Jeb Stuart’s command is looking for men, or Wade Hampton’s legion.”
Jake knew Dent was being polite, and he also realized that they were all thinking of how he had run from Duvall. His mind worked quickly, and he plunged ahead, saying, “Well, I’ve got to learn to ride and shoot much better than I do now—and there’s the matter of a challenge from a fellow in Richmond. If I
can take care of all those things, maybe I’ll make a soldier.”
Clay exclaimed, “Why, you can do it. If you need any help with shooting, I’ll be glad to help. And nobody knows more about horses than your brother Grant.”
Jake nodded quickly. “Thanks, Uncle Clay. I’ll need all the help I can get—but I’ve got a pretty fair teacher already where horses are concerned. Rachel’s giving me some help there.”
His remark brought smiles to most of the faces in the room, and Amy said, “I’ve tried to make a lady out of that child, but she’d rather ride a horse than dance a reel at a fancy ball!” Despite her words, it was clear she was pleased with the way things were. She added, “You two have been thick as thieves ever since you came home. If you weren’t her brother, I’d think that young officer, Leighton Semmes, would have something to worry about.”
Jake almost choked on that and barely managed to come up with a smile. “Well, Mother, he needn’t even take note of me. Which is a good thing, because I have the matter with Duvall to concentrate on right now.”
His remark pleased Vince’s father, who smiled. He had given up on Vince long ago. Now, though, there was a stirring of hope within him. Of course, he could not help feeling skeptical, and the long years of disappointment over his son made him frown. Amy, his wife, saw it but held her silence. She had a confident air about her, as though she knew for a certainty that things would work out. And there was something more, too—for at times she seemed as though she held something in, some knowledge that assured her all was well. Some noticed that about her, but no one questioned it. There was a strong spirit of faith in Amy Franklin. She was still crippled by the leg that refused to heal, but she never had lost hope that one day she would be whole again. Now she applied that same hope to her husband, praying, Lord, give him Your peace. Let him know that You will not let him down. That You are working even now to take care of all of us—even those who do not yet know You.
Then Amy said, “Let’s have some hot coffee and some of that fresh gingerbread I smell.” Her eyes were steady as she watched Jake, who stood alone beside the window, looking out at the snow.
Three Books in One: A Covenant of Love, Gate of His Enemies, and Where Honor Dwells Page 84
