Corn Silk Days: Iowa, 1862

by Linda Pendleton

  She asked, “Are you still doing your art?”

  He answered, “Some.”

  “And selling it?”

  “Yes.”

  She still had several birds that he had carved for her and she wondered if she should mention those. She decided to remain silent.

  He asked, “Remember that little gallery on Third Street?”

  She remembered it well. It was up the street from their favorite restaurant and they frequented both often. “Yes, I do.”

  “Well, they have a lot of my art and seem to sell it right along.”

  “I’m pleased to hear that. You have a real gift, you know.”

  “Do I?”

  “Yes, Benjamin. You know you do. It’s all beautiful. You need to take it to New York City. I hear they have some fine galleries.”

  “Maybe some day.”

  She said, “That’s my road coming up just ahead.”

  He turned the wagon onto her farm road and a hundred feet onto it the wagon wheel hit a hole in the road and severely jarred the wagon. It threw her against him and he flung out his arm to hold her back in the seat. She grabbed onto his arm to stop her forward movement.

  He pulled back on the reins and halted the horse. He swung in his seat to look at her, “You okay?”

  “Yes.” His arm was still across her and she was aware of his warm flesh under her hand. Her heart was racing and the scent of his closeness unsettled her. His gaze traveled over her face and searched her eyes. She knew she was sinking into surrender as his gaze became like a soft caress on her face. Later, she was not able to identify who had made the first move, but she knew it may have been her. This time when his mouth found hers she did not resist but returned his kiss with a reckless abandon and a passion that had once been theirs to share.

  Instinctively, her body arched toward his and her arms went around him. His hands explored the soft lines of her back, her shoulders, and then moved to her neck and face. She shuddered as she felt the warmth of his caress on her bare skin. He slowly and softly moved his mouth from hers and his wet lips made a path along her neck. He buried his face in her shoulder. “Oh, Lucinda, Lucinda,” he said softly.

  In silence, she held him tight and caressed his hair. Twilight had come over the prairie and with it came a gentle breeze. The only sound that could be heard was the song of a distant mocking bird and the light rustling of tall prairie grass as it swayed in the gentle wind.

  But within the sounds of the near silence, two troubled minds struggled to find answers to their stirred up emotions.

  It was only the neighing of one of the horses that broke through the emotional conflict that both Lucinda and Benjamin were suffering in lone silence.

  Benjamin was the first to break the embrace. He gently touched her face and then moved away from her. He picked up the reins and moved the wagon on down the road toward the farmhouse. And for the rest of the ride the only sounds heard were the creaking movement of the wagon and the song of the distant mocking bird.

  In moonlight, which was diffused by a thin cloud cover, Benjamin rode his horse across the champaign to town. The arrival at Lucinda’s farmhouse following the minutes of silence between them had been awkward. He helped her from the wagon, his strong hands circled her waist and lifted her down. He searched her eyes, not sure what his next move should be. He had only a moment to consider it. Lucinda’s hand moved to his jawline. He noticed there was a light tremor in her hand. Her misty eyes met his. She sighed deeply. She said softly, “You must go now, Benjamin.”

  That was not what he wanted to do. He replied, “If you want me to, Lucinda.”

  She dropped her hand from his face. “You must.”

  His voice was soft as he asked, “Is that what you want?”

  She bit her lip and her voice broke as she said, “I can’t have you here, Benjamin. We can’t let it happen.”

  An uncertainty crept into his expression. He hesitated a moment and then said, “Maybe it is meant to happen.”

  She sighed. “Oh, Benjamin, no.” Her eyes filled with tears. Her voice choked with emotion. “My heart is telling me no. I can’t let it. We can’t!”

  His longing lay naked in his mind but he said, “I understand. I’ll leave.” He reached out and gently stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “It’ll be okay.” He leaned in toward her and softly kissed her forehead. He drew back and asked, “Do you mind if I stop by the school to say hello in a few days on my way through on business.”

  Her face showed relief. She replied, “That would be fine.”

  He turned from her and said over his shoulder, “I’ll get your horse into the barn and then be on my way.”

  Lucinda was at her window peering out into the darkness as Benjamin mounted his horse. She watched his silhouette disappear into the night. She turned from the window with an aching heart and with old forgotten feelings rekindled and burning just below the surface. She recalled the first night they had met and the many days and nights that had followed.

  A distressing realization swept over her. Benjamin had been right. He was not over her, and even more disturbing, she was not over him.

  The next morning Benjamin slept late. He shaved, dressed and went downstairs into the Marshalltown Hotel café. The hostess greeted him warmly. “Good morning, Mr. Storm. Would you like breakfast?”

  He returned her smile. “’Morning. I’d like a cup of coffee and will take a short walk before breakfast if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course,” she said as she moved behind the counter and poured a steaming cup of coffee. She handed it to him. “I hope you had a good night, sir.”

  He gave her a polite smile and nod and went out the side door of the hotel.

  It was still early enough that the morning air was crisp. He walked to the back of the hotel and across a field to the woods. As he walked into the woods, he could hear running water. He spotted a small creek and followed along the bank for a way until he found a fallen log to sit on. He sipped the coffee and tried to clear his mind of the events of yesterday. It was no use. Today would be like the night had been.

  Thoughts of Lucinda would not leave his mind.

  And for now he knew he did not want to bury those thoughts within the haze of liquor. No, he wanted them fresh and clear so he could savor every nuance of his memories and thoughts of Lucinda. The passion of their kiss last evening gave him hope.

  He watched the rays of the sun glistening and dancing on the rushing water as it moved downstream. And with it, he sent a prayer that the hope would not be extinguished. He needed that hope to get him through the days ahead.

  Without it, he wanted no future.

  Chapter Seven: Katrina

  The Sunday morning had dawned clear-skied and tranquil, the stillness pierced only by the crowing of the roosters and the cry of Elizabeth Jane as her uterine contractions intensified. She pushed Anna Gerber’s hand away from her face as she smelled the odor of ether on the cloth the midwife held. “No, not that. It’s okay,” she said as the pain subsided.

  Anna complied and asked, “Are you sure, honey?”

  “I’m fine. I don’t want that.”

  “All right, we’ll do without it,” Anna told her as she set the cloth aside. “But if you change your mind, you tell me.”

  Elizabeth Jane nodded. She took a deep breath as the contraction began again. “Ooh, here it comes.” This time the pain was even greater but Elizabeth Jane had been through this before and she knew it would be over soon. As the pain again subsided, she laughed lightly. “Gosh, how you forget. Maybe God gives us the gift of forgetfulness so we can’t recall how intense the pain is. If we remembered we would do all we could not to get pregnant.”

  Catherine, seated alongside the bed, agreed. “It is a gift from God.”

  Anna said, “I’ve delivered near one hundred fifty babies in my day and I would agree that if mothers could remember what they go through I’d be looking for something else to do with my time. And maybe i
t would be counseling the husbands whose wives refuse to sleep in the same bed with them.” She laughed. “Let the men have the babies and we’d see how many little ones would be running around.”

  Anna wiped Elizabeth Jane’s forehead with a cool cloth as the next pain arrived. She told her, “Now push ... push ... that’s it, that’s a girl. Push.”

  Elizabeth Jane was beginning to feel exhaustion as the frequency and intensity of the contractions increased. She sighed deeply as the pain let up. She had lost all track of time but it seemed like it had been hours since her labor pains had begun. She closed her eyes and grimaced as the pain returned.

  Anna again instructed, “Push, push, that’s good.” She moved from Elizabeth Jane’s side and to the end of the bed and checked the head of the baby. “It won’t be too long, honey, just a few more pushes.”

  Catherine moved to the side of the bed where Anna had been. She softly stroked her daughter’s face and took her hand as the next contraction came. Elizabeth Jane squeezed her hand tight as she beardown. She screamed out as the pain became agonizing. “Oh, Mama!”

  Catherine’s voice was calm as she said, “Your baby will be here real soon, honey, not much longer.”

  Again the pain. Elizabeth Jane was aware of the pressure of her mother’s hands on her abdomen and her soothing words but it seemed as if she was in an underground cave and her mother was far off. During the intensity of the pain that was now almost ongoing, everything happening seemed like a weird dream.

  She could hear Mrs. Gerber telling her to push, but it seemed she, too, was far off. Her mind wandered away from the reality of the moment and she felt as if she was sinking into a black void. In the surrealness, it became very bright and she could see Silas as he reached his hand out to her. She could hear cannons firing and screams as Silas moved toward her. In the chaos, soldiers were running, rifles were firing, cannons were thundering, soldiers on horseback went galloping by. In the pandemonium, the loudness of the gunfire was hurting her ears. She felt Silas’s hand take hers but she could no longer see him. She heard a familiar cry. The cry came again. She realized it was her own voice crying out. Then a momentary silence. Out of silence came another cry, a cry that was also a familiar one. Then she heard her mother’s voice, “Janie, it’s a girl!”

  Catherine’s words brought Elizabeth Jane back to the present and she realized the cry was her baby’s cry. Exhausted, Elizabeth Jane struggled to lift her head to see her baby. Anna raised the infant into the air for Elizabeth Jane to see. The sight of her tiny baby brought tears of joy. She said, “Oh, Mama, I have my little girl.” She laid her head back onto the pillow and sighed deeply with relief. Then she remembered Silas. With the mixture of fatigue and anger at his absence at such a time, she began to sob. “Mama, why isn’t Silas here with me. Why? He should be here!”

  “Calm down, Janie,” Catherine said soothingly as she gently stroked Elizabeth Jane’s forehead. “You just think about your baby right now, honey. Don’t think about anything else.”

  In a few moments, Elizabeth Jane calmed and wiped her tears from her face with the edge of the bed sheet. “I’m sorry, Mama.”

  “It’s okay, honey,” Catherine said with a soft smile on her lips.

  Anna wrapped the baby in a blanket and handed her to Elizabeth Jane. As she cuddled the baby against her body, all thoughts of Silas left and was replaced by a strong feeling of awe. She gently rubbed her finger against the soft cheek of her baby girl and the baby uttered a whimper and her tiny hands thrashed slightly in the air.

  “It’s okay, sweetie, your Mommy has you,” Elizabeth Jane said softly. She put her lips to the tiny hand and kissed it.

  Catherine told her daughter, “As soon as we get you all cleaned up and the bed changed, I’ll go out in the yard and call Denny in to see his baby sister.”

  Elizabeth Jane said, “Oh, I forgot about Denny. How’s he been?”

  “He’s been just fine. Your Daddy and Alexander have kept him busy. They just returned a little while ago from our farm. He was hoping when they came back his new baby sister or brother would be here.”

  Elizabeth Jane said, “I think he wanted a baby brother. I hope he’s not too disappointed.” She moved the blanket away from her baby’s face. “She’s so pretty. She looks like a little angel.”

  Anna asked, “Have you a name?”

  Elizabeth Jane told her, “Yes. Her name is Katrina Elizabeth.”

  Anna smiled. “That’s a pretty name for a pretty little girl.”

  Denny carried a bucket of chicken feed and scattered handfuls of food around on the ground as the chickens followed him about the yard.

  Daniel McCord watched his grandson, who obviously was enjoying his work. Daniel realized how much Denny looked like Silas now that he was getting a little older. He turned to Alexander and said, “That boy’s growing mighty fast.”

  Alexander agreed. “We’re going to make a good farmer out of him by the time his Daddy returns.”

  Alexander’s words of Silas’s absence irritated Daniel. He felt his son-in-law had no business going off to war and he had not kept his opinion to himself since Silas had left. Annoyance hovered in his eyes as he looked at Alexander. “The damn war is a waste of time.” His voice was heavy with sarcasm.

  Alexander chuckled, his steely gray eyes lighting up. “You’re a stubborn one, Daniel. To hear you talk you’d think you were on Jefferson Davis’s side. Seems your loyalty is with the Confederacy.”

  “Well, it sure ain’t with the abolitionists.” Throwing up his hands, he sighed. “It’s all their doing we’re in this mess. And it ain’t going away. How many men are going to die before this is over and all on account of the niggers? Maybe if Douglas had been elected, things wouldn’t have got so bad.”

  “What do you want? Two nations here? You want the Confederates to have their way?”

  “No dammit.” His retort hardened his features. “But this has gotten outta hand.”

  Alexander stared at Daniel a moment, a shadow of annoyance crossed his face. He asked, “You for the Union or against it?”

  Daniel sighed with exasperation. “Ah shit, I’m for it, you know that. I just hate the war, that’s all.”

  Alexander replied, “I would imagine we all do.”

  “I’m concerned of the talk of giving the niggers guns and making them soldiers.”

  “They can learn to shoot just like a White man. Why not make good soldiers out of ‘em?”

  Daniel’s laugh had a sharp edge. “I’d have to see it to believe it. What’d they know about soldiering?”

  “The same thing a young White man knows,” Alexander commented. “They’ve been taught to fight. It doesn’t matter what color the skin that fires the gun or stops the bullet.”

  “If I was out there on some battlefield I wouldn’t want a nigger standing beside me.”

  Alexander’s look was one of faint amusement. “Daniel, if he could shoot that gun and take down the Rebel that was about to shoot you, you’d forget the color of his skin. In fact, you might get on your knees and thank him.”

  “Ah, shit, Alex,” he said with disgust. “I hate this war. I want our boys home safe.”

  Alexander slapped Daniel on the back and said, “I know you do.”

  Daniel’s face became solemn. He turned and walked a few feet from Alexander. With his back to Alexander, he said quietly, “I worry about my Madeline. She’s living with that Rebel husband of hers. He’s bad news.”

  Alexander asked, “You heard from her?”

  Daniel turned around and his eyes were moist. “Nah, not for months. Her mother worries. Wish I could get her the hell out of Virginia to safer ground.” He shrugged. “How do you say to your daughter after all these years—‘Madeline, leave your husband and come home?’”

  Alexander said quietly, “It’s tough.”

  Daniel leaned down and picked up a rock and threw it long and hard into the corn field. He muttered, “Goddamn this war!”

&nb
sp; Denny was excited as he ran into the house. He hurried to his mother’s bedroom door but when he reached the open door he stopped and peered inquisitively into the room.

  Elizabeth Jane saw his shyness and called to him. “Denny, come see your baby sister.”

  Denny moved from the bedroom doorway into the room and quietly tip-toed across to his mother’s bedside. His blue eyes peered curiously at the bundle his mother held in her arms.

  She said, “Come closer so you can see her.”

  His face revealed awe as he looked at his baby sister. His face broke into a smile of surprise. “She’s so little,” he giggled. He reached out and touched the baby’s hand, immediately pulling his finger away. Katrina opened her eyes and her mouth puckered slightly. Denny laughed. “Look, Mama, she made a face at me. You think she likes me?”

  Elizabeth Jane smiled at her son. “I’d say Katrina loves her big brother.”

  Denny smiled with satisfaction. He looked away from Katrina and at his mother. “Do you think Daddy will sing to her like he does to me when he gets home?”

  Her eyes filled with tears at her son’s question. She answered softly, “Yes, Denny, I think he will.”

  Denny tickled the baby’s cheek with his finger. “You hear that, baby Katrina? Daddy will sing you songs, too.”

  Elizabeth Jane unconsciously pulled the baby tighter against her as she thought about Silas. She wanted him home, home where he belonged with her and the children. She wondered how old her daughter would be before Silas returned.

  And what if he never returned?

  What then?

  Chapter Eight: Wednesday, the 22nd Day of April 1863

  Camp near Vicksburg, Mississippi

  Dear Companion,

  It is once more I take my pen and ink to inform you of my health which is tolerable good at present. We have seen very hard times for the past several weeks and today is a very gloomy day to us and I expect there are more to come.