American Struggle

by Veda Boyd Jones

  The Fisk home sat on three large lots covered with tall shade trees. A combination carriage house and stable sat to the rear of the lot just across from the apple orchard. Papa’s buggy was kept there, and his horse, Bordeaux, was housed in the stable.

  As the children approached Papa’s office, Edward came out. He shook Papa’s hand and smiled. Being part of the Guthrie Grays meant Edward had a full uniform, with brass buttons and epaulets, unlike the ragtag Walnut Hills Home Guard.

  Andrew and Daria liked Edward. Even though he was twenty-four and an officer, he never treated them like children. When Edward spied Daria and Andrew, he gave a wave. “Hello, Andrew,” he said. “Hello, Daria.”

  Andrew ran toward him. “Is there an emergency? You’re never here this time of day.”

  Edward shook his head. “No emergency. Sorry I haven’t time to chat, Andy, but I’ve been away from my regiment too long now.” The cylindrical dress hat, called a shako, with its shiny bill and feathery plume, was beneath his arm. He replaced it now, firming it on and pulling the strap beneath his chin. “Thank you, Dr. Fisk.” With long strides, he hurried to his horse, mounted, and rode away.

  Daria turned to Papa. “What’s he thanking you for? Is he sick?”

  Papa pulled off his eyeglasses and gave a wan smile. “I must get my hat and bag and get over to Mrs. Menken’s house. Will you please get the buggy ready, Andrew?” He disappeared into his office, leaving Daria wondering.

  She trailed after Andrew as her brother headed toward the stable. Bordeaux was a beautiful black gelding with three white stockings and a blaze of white on his nose. Daria got to take care of Bordeaux when Mama didn’t need her help, and she looked forward to those times when she had the chance to spend time with the gelding. The one chore she never minded was taking care of the horse. Bordeaux had been a gift from Uncle Jon, Mama’s brother, and his wife, Eleanor. Aunt Ellie, as they called her, came from a French family, and she liked to give their horses French names. “Bordeaux,” she’d told them, “is a seaport village in France.”

  Daria wasn’t really interested in any village in France, but she agreed that a fine horse like Bordeaux deserved to have a special name. Outside the stable, Andrew gave his special whistle. Soft nickers answered him. Even when Bordeaux was hobbled and grazing in the orchard, he always came when Andrew or Daria whistled. He was a smart horse.

  Andrew went into the stall and reached up to stroke the velvety soft nose. “Hello there, fella. Time to hitch up,” he said. “Papa needs you.”

  Sometimes he and Daria saddled Bordeaux and rode him, but they had to stay close to the house in case Papa received an emergency summons. Daria watched as Andrew slipped the halter over the horse’s head and led him outside. Opening the double doors of the carriage house, Daria took down the harness from the wall hook inside and handed it to Andrew. As he harnessed Bordeaux, the horse kept trying to reach around and nibble at Daria’s arm or shoulders—whatever he could reach.

  “You silly thing,” Daria said with a chuckle. “Always trying to get more attention.”

  Papa came out and swung his black bag up into the buggy, then pulled the long reins up to the dashboard. Bordeaux gave a little shake as though he was more than ready to get going.

  “Papa, you never said why Edward was thanking you. Is it some sort of secret?”

  “Won’t be a secret for long, Daria. Edward has asked me for your sister’s hand in marriage. I said yes.”

  Daria stared at Papa for a long moment. Jenny, getting married? She didn’t know why she felt so surprised, but she did.

  “Does Mama know?”

  Papa stepped up into the buggy. “I’m sure she’s guessed by now. That is, if Jenny hasn’t told her.” He gathered the reins in his hand to keep Bordeaux from stepping out. “While I’m out, I’ll check on the Canfields. The missus is about to have her baby.”

  Daria nodded, but she was still thinking about a wedding in their family. Jenny had just turned twenty. There were plenty of girls she knew who were younger than Jenny and were already married—some already had babies. The thought of her own self being married in a few years made her stomach feel squiggly. There were too many other things she wanted to do first.

  “Muck out Bordeaux’s stall,” Papa told Andrew. “And after you’ve had supper, run into town to the newspaper office and see if any war news has come in.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And, Daria?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “You stay home. It’s bad enough that you run all over the country with your brother in the daylight hours. These days it’s best you stay closer to home after dark.” Papa turned to Andrew. “You understand, son? You need to make sure your sister does as she’s told.”

  Daria stuck out her lip, but Andrew nodded. “Yes, sir. I understand.” He avoided Daria’s eyes as Bordeaux stepped out smartly, and the buggy rolled out the drive and clattered down the street.

  Daria was still fuming at suppertime. It just wasn’t fair. She and Andrew were the same exact age—but because Andrew was a boy, he got to have all the fun.

  Mirza, their maid, had cooked up a scrumptious ham supper. The thin woman seemed to be all elbows and angles, but she created wonderfully light rolls. Mama scolded Daria for mopping up salty ham gravy with them.

  “That’s the way a backwoods person would eat,” she said. “I’ve taught you better manners than that.” But Daria did it anyway. She was tired of doing as she was told. Besides, there was no better way to get up the last of that good gravy.

  While she ate, she studied Jenny’s face, but she could see nothing different about her. Jenny spent nearly every afternoon sewing shirts for the volunteers. Surely she knew Edward had come by, but her face was a smooth mask. Jenny favored Mama not only in manner but also in her fair skin and copper-colored hair. Papa often made Mama blush by saying the two looked more like sisters than mother and daughter.

  Now Jenny and Mama chatted away about who had brought their sewing machines and who was helping with the work. But Jenny, who was soon to become a bride, looked the same as she always had.

  As Daria polished off a second helping of Mirza’s apple cobbler, she pushed back her chair and sat poised while Andrew told Mama that he was supposed to run to town to check on the war news.

  Mama looked worried, but she only nodded. “Be careful.” Then she turned back to her conversation with Jenny. Daria stood up and began to clear the dishes from the table. She waited until Mama had her hands in the sudsy dishwater, and then she asked, “Do you mind if I go out to the stable? I want to spend some time with Bordeaux.”

  Mama nodded absently. Clearly, her mind was on other things, and Daria seized her opportunity. She slipped out the back door and ran as fast as she could toward town.

  After a few minutes, she had caught up with Andrew. He must have heard her footsteps behind him, because he turned around, frowning. “Papa said I was to go alone, Daria.”

  “I don’t care.” Daria stuck out her chin. “It doesn’t make any sense that you’re allowed to go and I’m not.”

  Andrew opened his mouth to argue, but then he just sighed. “You’re going to get us both in trouble,” he muttered. But Daria knew that Andrew was glad to have her there. They had gone everywhere together ever since they were born, and it felt strange to both of them now that their parents were starting to insist that Daria had to stay home when Andrew went out.

  Daria decided to divert Andrew’s mind to other thoughts. “Want to see if Roy can come with us?” she asked.

  Andrew nodded, and they turned down Woodburn Street. Here, the houses were closer together. Andrew hurried up the steps of the two-story white house and knocked on the door. Mrs. Gartner answered the door, balancing a baby on her hip. She smiled when she saw Andrew with Daria behind him. Compared to their mama and older sister, Mrs. Gartner dressed rather plain, but she was always friendly to Daria and Andrew.

  “Howdy, Andy,” she said kindly. “Howdy, Daria. You com
e for a visit?”

  “Papa’s asked me to go downtown to check on the war news,” Andrew said. “May Roy come with us?”

  Roy appeared at the door, looking over his mama’s shoulder. His face brightened at the invitation. “Can I, Ma? Can I?”

  Roy had told Daria and Andrew that Mrs. Gartner was a bit frightened of the big city of Cincinnati. “Why, even Columbus was too big for Mama,” Roy had said. “She grew up in the woods, not the city.”

  Now, Mrs. Gartner hesitated a moment, shifting the baby on her hip. Then she said, “Oh, I don’t see no reason why not.” She turned to her son. “You go on. But mind you, don’t get all angered up just ‘cause the news ain’t too good.”

  “I’ll try not to,” Roy answered and ran to fetch his cap.

  As they walked down the hill toward town, Roy apologized for his behavior that afternoon. “Seems I ain’t much as a ballplayer,” he said. “It appears you put a lot of store by the game. I didn’t aim to be a disappointment to you.”

  Daria was sorry then that she’d been so impatient with their friend. “It’s a sore spot inside me,” she explained. “Our teams at school were getting pretty good. Not to sound puffed up, but my pitching was improving a great deal the past few months.” She kicked at a rock in the street. “Then the stupid war had to come and ruin everything.” But she knew it wasn’t just the war. It was the way Mama and Papa were suddenly insisting that she couldn’t do the same things Andrew did.

  “Don’t worry, Daria. Once I become a drummer and help the Union soldiers march into battle, we’ll make quick work of this ‘stupid war.’ “

  “You ought not talk like that, Roy,” Andrew said. “About joining, I mean. You’ll worry your mama worse than she’s already worried.” “You don’t think I say anything in her hearing? I just keep my mouth shut and bide my time.” “What about your papa?”

  “Papa works long hours at the gunsmith’s. Says there’s enough work to last for months. We hardly seen him since we came to the city. He sure enough won’t miss me.”

  Daria didn’t know Roy well enough to judge if he was just talking—or if he was talking truth.

  When they arrived at the Gazette office down on Third Street, the lights were glowing. Since the war had started, it seemed no one in the city slept. Something was always happening. The news that would be printed in the next day’s early edition was usually posted in the window. As they approached, Daria saw the headline: COLONEL ELMER ELLSWORTH SLAIN!

  “Colonel Ellsworth,” Andrew muttered.

  “Someone you knew?” Roy asked.

  Daria turned to Roy. “You’ve not heard of Ellsworth?”

  Roy shook his head.

  “He came through Cincinnati last year when Abe Lincoln was campaigning here. He was Lincoln’s bodyguard. Our uncle Jonathan met him.”

  Roy’s eyes grew big. He turned again to study the headlines, shaking his head.

  “He was commander of the Zouave Cadets,” Andrew said. “His was the first outfit to invade the South.”

  Daria thought about the handsome young man with the long, wavy, dark hair. He’d been no older than Edward. And now he was dead. Shot by a Rebel. How Daria hated this horrid, horrid war.

  CHAPTER 3

  The Wedding

  As Daria, Andrew, and Roy walked slowly back to Walnut Hills, Andrew explained how Uncle Jon had been a law partner with Salmon Chase before Mr. Chase became secretary of the treasury in Lincoln’s cabinet. Because of this, Uncle Jon and Aunt Ellie had attended a tea given for Mr. Lincoln when he was running for president.

  “My uncle knows a lot of important people,” Daria said. “Wow,” Roy said, duly impressed. “Were you there? Did you meet Old Abe?”

  “Mama tells us we should call him Mr. Lincoln. And no, we weren’t there.”

  “Mr. Lincoln? That does ring more respectful. I’ll call him that, too.”

  “And even if we didn’t meet Mr. Lincoln,” Andrew said, “we saw him and heard him speak. He’s a good man.”

  “Wow,” Roy said again. “None of the boys back home know anybody who’s seen the president.”

  Late that evening, the Fisk family gathered in the parlor for prayers. No one had missed Daria, and now she was trying not to feel guilty about disobeying Papa. But it wasn’t right, she told herself. Surely God must understand that Mama and Papa weren’t being fair.

  The parlor’s heavy velvet draperies were pulled back, and the windows had been left open to let in the cool spring air. The big piano sat in a corner of the room, with Mama’s secretary standing by the windows. A cluster of chairs, a couple of settees, and the davenport were clustered nearer the fireplace. Papa sat in his upholstered chair with the Bible in his lap, his eyeglasses in his hand.

  Andrew and Daria settled into separate corners of the davenport. The quiet and peace of the moment enveloped Daria like a quilted comforter on a winter evening. The thought of a gallant young man named Elmer Ellsworth dying for his country seemed so remote here in the safety of the family parlor.

  When Papa asked for the news, Andrew told what he’d read in the window of the Gazette. “The Union forces had taken the city of Alexandria, Virginia,” Andrew explained. “Lieutenant Ellsworth went upstairs in the inn where the Confederate flag was flying to pull it down. When he came back downstairs, carrying the flag, the owner of the inn shot him.”

  Mama winced and shook her head. “So young,” she said softly.

  “I remember him,” Daria said quietly. “It’s hard to think of him being killed.”

  “Edward has told me about Ellsworth,” Jenny put in. “How he’d gone about the country rallying men for his elite militia while everyone else was saying there’d never be a war.”

  “In his youth, he had more foresight than many of us older folk,” Papa said. “But enough about the serious news. We have a note of good cheer much closer to home.”

  Daria glanced at Jenny and saw her blush. Papa explained about

  Edward’s visit that afternoon and that he’d asked to marry Jenny. “Knowing the fine, upstanding young man he is, how could I say no?” Papa smiled warmly as he looked about his family.

  Andrew went over and hugged his sister. “Jenny, I’m so happy for you.”

  Mama also went to Jenny and put her arms about her daughter. “He’s a fine young man, Jenny. I feel sure the Lord brought the two of you together.”

  Daria was quiet. She wanted to scream out, “But what about the war?” None of them seemed to want to admit that Edward would be leaving with his regiment any day. What kind of marriage would that be?

  Papa looked at her and said, “Daria, don’t you want to wish your sister well?”

  Daria walked over and put her hand on Jenny’s shoulder. “Best wishes, Jenny. I’m real happy for you and Edward.” She hesitated. “Does Christian know?”

  “Now how could Christian know when I just learned it this afternoon?” Papa asked.

  “He’ll find out soon enough,” Jenny said.

  Christian, their eighteen-year-old brother, worked for the Little Miami Railroad. They didn’t see much of him because the trains were constantly on the go, transporting troops and supplies.

  Papa called his little family back to order and read the scriptures and prayed, asking God to bring a quick end to the awful conflict.

  That night as Daria slept, she dreamed of a young officer coming down a flight of steep stairs with a Confederate flag wadded in his arms. A shot rang out; the man fell. But in her dream, the face of the officer belonged to Edward. When Daria awakened, her heart was beating fast and she was shivering. She hated the thought that something so bad could happen to Edward and to her sister, Jenny.

  Roy had no nice church clothes. Mama insisted it didn’t matter. And Daria agreed. But some people still looked askance at him. As the pastor explained how Jesus died for everyone, Daria could see that Roy was listening with rapt attention. She wondered if Roy understood about how to ask Jesus into his heart, but she didn’t wa
nt to embarrass her and Andrew’s new friend by asking.

  Daria didn’t have to. On the way home from church, Andrew explained to Roy God’s plan for salvation. Roy looked interested in what Andrew had to say, but Andrew didn’t push things, and Daria was glad. She was proud her twin had the courage to speak up for his beliefs—but she didn’t think it seemed right to try to shove them down Roy’s throat. She tried to think of something more she could add to what Andrew had said, but it seemed to her like he had said everything that was important. Besides, she wasn’t too sure how she felt about God these days. She could never decide if He was on her side—or Mama’s and Papa’s.

  The following Monday morning, Daria sat staring out the school window, longing to be anywhere but in the classroom.

  Her fifth-grade teacher, Miss Epstein, had been teaching at the Walnut Hills Grammar School for almost as long as the school had been open. She had a sharp eye and seemed to know whenever Daria’s mind began to drift, which was quite often. Daria felt stifled and bored in school. Fortunately, she received high marks in all subjects without having to study much. Andrew wasn’t so lucky. His mind often wandered like Daria’s, but it seemed as though no matter how hard he studied, school was a struggle for him.

  Miss Epstein rapped on her desk with the long map pointer. “I have an announcement to make,” she told the class. “I’m afraid the news is not good.”

  Behind her hung the map of the United States. Miss Epstein had put colored pieces of paper on the states that had seceded from the Union since April.

  “Due to the attention being given to war matters, there will be no commencement day celebration as in other years.” This news brought loud groans from the entire class. “The school superintendent,” she continued, “has decided that only graduations will take place.”

  Daria glanced across the aisle at Andrew. She could see he was as disappointed as she was. School commencement exercises were a highlight for every student, with parades, recitations, music, and a big picnic. Now, just like that, it had been canceled. It was as though those mean Confederates were coming right into their classroom and ruining everything.