“Dear Maggie, don’t you worry. We’re riding on the last stretch of dirt now. The war can’t go on much longer.”
Maggie blinked. “What? You mean the war will soon be over?”
“We’ve got nothin’ more to fight with. No ammunition, no horses.” He chuckled. “There aren’t even enough rocks anymore to hurtle on the Yankees’ heads.” He wiped away her tears with his good hand, giving her comfort, when she should be comforting him. “Most of my men are barefoot.… All we care about now is making a valiant finish and end with a little dignity.” He grimaced. “Though to be honest, some of us are still wishing for a miracle. It’s hard to say ‘uncle’ when it isn’t part of a southerner’s vocabulary.”
Shortly after midnight, the rains came. Sheets of it. Deep crevices of red mud wove their way down the lane, blending with blood and discarded pieces of gray and blue cloth. Soon the wagons bearing the wounded were stuck. Eli, Father, and Jacob worked doggedly to dig them out.
The big pots boiled on throughout the night, no one getting any sleep. As quickly as a soldier died, Eli and Jacob hobbling on one crutch and holding the stretcher in the other, carried the dead away to stack next to the woodpile.
Then Father and Prudence brought in another wounded soldier and the process began again.
At noon of the second day, the rains subsided and the cannons fell silent. People who could stand rushed outside.
“I can’t see the color of their coats.” Maggie shielded her eyes with her hands, stepping up on her tiptoes. The victors trotted down the road and turned the corner. Was Ben alive or dead? She watched as a rainbow crested above, across the silky blue sky. Then Ben’s tall form, riding just behind General Schofield, came up to the entranceway.
General Schofield was off his horse in a single bound. Ben remained in the saddle. One hand held behind his back, as if concealing something.
“Who might be the owner of this plantation?” General Schofield asked.
“I am.” Her father stepped forward, dressed in his full military suit of gray, gold buttons, and braiding. “Major Gatlan.”
What was Father trying to do? Irritate the general?
“Yes, I see. Sir, can you relate to me the casualties, how many Union and Confederate soldiers?”
Father, who in his meticulous handwriting had listed all the soldiers, their names, ranks, and army, handed the list to Schofield.
Schofield glanced down at it. “Major McConnell will stay. His headquarters will be here until the courthouse is properly repaired for occupancy.” He tipped his hat. “Good day, ladies and gentlemen.” With that the general turned and galloped back down the lane, a hundred or so soldiers following him.
A gathering of no more than thirty Union soldiers remained. Ben glanced over his shoulder at the ragged line of Confederate prisoners with bloodied bandages swathing their heads and arms. He turned his eyes on her father.
“I am sorry to impose on your hospitality.” His voice low, rumbled like an impending storm in his throat. There was careful restrained savagery in his dark eyes, a ruthless abandonment of caring about anything or anyone.
“Oh …” Maggie fell back as if he’d struck her. She had seen that look once before. Where? Her mind revolved like the spokes of a wagon spinning out of control down a cliff. Then she remembered. The cracker Mr. Barns up in the Smokies. He’d been bitten by a rabid wolf. The neighbors tied him to a tree; he had looked at her like that.
“These conditions force my hand, ’tis my only choice.” Leaning forward, he jerked with pain. Deep crevices of exhaustion slapped his face like a dirty rag. He lifted his left foot out of his stirrup slowly, then slid off his horse and crumbled in a heap on the ground, unconscious.
“Let go!” Ben struggled. He fought the faceless man that bound his arms. “Ben. Ben, wake up; it’s Jacob. You’re having a nightmare.” He slapped him across the cheek. “Wake up! I say.”
Ben blinked the hazy room into focus beneath his half-shut eyelids. Insolent flies buzzed about his form in the shallow light. The curtains were drawn and only a few pinpoints of sunlight penetrated the shades drawn against the noonday heat.
Jacob patted his arm. “Good, you’re goin’ to be alright. Doctor Jordan managed to save your leg, and once you get over this here fever, you’ll be back to your ornery self again.”
Ben swallowed. His mouth felt like someone had stuffed cotton in it. “Can I get a drink of water?”
“Maggie’s fetching some spring water for you now.” Jacob bent over. “I’s didn’t want her to see you at your worst… though she nursed you through most of it as it was.” Jacob’s worried eyes swept him. “You back to bein’ your joyful self?”
Ben’s bottom lip quivered. He clamped down on it. His ears rang with the earth-splitting sounds and horror of the cannons and gunfire. A bitterly ruthless noise erupted from his lips. “That man is gone, Jacob. I’ll live, then I’ll die like Big Jim.”
“Hmmm, you sure about that?” Jacob chuckled and patted him on his stomach. About the only place that didn’t hurt. “I thinks Miss Maggie will have somethin’ to say about that.”
As if on cue, Maggie entered the room carrying a bucket of water, with Will leaning on a cane near her side. Will had evidently said something funny, for she was laughing. Her eyes danced, her red lips smiled, showing her even white teeth as her swishing skirts raised tiny dust particles in the semi-darkened room. Her lemon verbena sachet and soap smell wafted past Ben’s nostrils.
“Well, I’m glad to see you’re awake.”
That smell, yes, she had been the one swabbing his face. What were they saying when they walked in, something funny about him? Jealously, like a red-hot demon, lit on Ben’s shoulder, whispering in his ear. Ben had worked his way up that impossible ladder of respect in the Union army and he wasn’t going to let that Reb throw it back in his face. Let alone in front of Maggie. “Ben?” Maggie looked at him aghast. “What’s wrong with you?”
Ben struggled to rise. Maggie placed some pillows behind his back. He didn’t take his gaze off Will. Perspiration trickled down his forehead. He felt hot and cold all at once, his rage overtaking his emotions. He was not only a dirty Yank, but a filthy Irishman to these Rebs. Ben set his face into a solid mass of determination to complete his job.
He knew it wasn’t hate for Will or Johnny Reb for they were only doing what they had to, as he was doing what he had to. It was the long-standing determination he felt when first he disembarked the Dunbrody famine ship that had worked its way into his bones and now lodged there like a Reb’s bullet. “This is war, Maggie. I’ll have to send Will to the Union prison up in Pennsylvania.” Ben chuckled deep in his throat. “Least he’ll get three square meals and a roof over his head, not like the sorry conditions in Anderson Prison. In that hole, it’s only wormy bread and sleeping on the hard ground…”
“What do you expect?” Will stepped forward, his hand drawn into a fist. “What with Sherman making an eight-mile swath through the South, burning everything in his path.”
Little Irene ran into the room, her pitter patting feet making a lively tune on the wood floor. “Papa! Irene wants to go for a walk.”
Will knelt and patted her on the shoulder with his good arm. “Sure, sweetheart. But Pa might have to go away for a while. Now promise me you’ll mind Miss Maggie until I return.”
Little Irene buried her head into her father’s chest. “No, Papa, no.” Her little hands went around his neck as her blonde curly head mingled with her daddy’s beard.
“Ben, if there ever was anything between us…” Maggie rushed to his side, knelt and buried her head in his sheets. “Please. Little Irene has already lost her mother.” Raising her head, her bottom lip quivered; her eyes, moist with tears, beseeched him.
So she cares that much for Will to kneel here and beg like this.
Ben set his jaw. He remembered the sword that had been meant for him sinking deep into Big Jim’s back instead. “Jacob, you’re still in the Union ar
my. Arrest Will and throw him in the guard house.”
Jacob’s bottom lip puckered forward. “But there ain’t no guard house.”
“Well, then.” Ben threw his legs over the edge of the bed, swaying as his head swam with the sudden change from lying down to rising. Maggie’s arm went out to steady him. He pushed her away. “Then commission the smoke house, whatever, lock up these Johnny Rebs before someone rides out and alerts the Confederacy that we’re just a remnant here holding down Maryville.”
Chapter 29
B en’s fist pounded the glossy varnished table where he had lain only three months ago. The irritating flies and gnats buzzed around his perspiring face. The sheers swathing the tall french windows lay limp. The servants had drawn them against the blistering August sun and no breeze rustled the trees.
It was only a matter of time before the Confederate army returned to Maryville. Rolling out his maps, he prayed his plan would work. If it did not, his regiment would land in Anderson prison.
“Ben, does it help saying I’m sorry?” Maggie placed a bowl of hominy and a corn pone on the table next to him. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner consisted of the same menu. That is, unless Jacob or Eli could trap a rabbit or two. Deer had been depleted years before, as were livestock.
He sneered. Yes, she was sorry. For what? For being part of her father’s little scheme, or for letting Will go? It was as clear as the hot August sky that she was feeling guilty. Well, she’d be sorrier before the day was up.
Good thing he’d learned not to trust anyone. After all, he had his men to think about. And thank God, he and his men had fortified the old courthouse in case the Rebs returned. That was the only place where he could fight and win.
“I can’t believe Will would go and tell the Confederacy… I just…” She leaned forward and a whiff of her womanliness passed his nostrils. Her soft voice tickled his ears. He closed his eyes to savor the moment.
“Daughter,” her father said, eyeing Ben.
Mr. Gatlan’s hatred for him was obvious. Most likely, he’d orchestrated the whole affair of having Little Irene get lost in the berry patch. It had played on Ben’s conscious so badly, he’d let Will loose from the guard house to help find her. It was hard for him to believe Maggie didn’t know about it. Well, no matter. What was done, was done.
A volley of boots echoed down the hallway. “Sir!”
Ben saluted back. “Yes, sergeant?”
“The courthouse is ready.”
Ben turned. “Maggie, get your things, you may bring Hattie with you. You are now my prisoner.”
“Oh!” Her hand went to her throat.
“No!” her father cried.
Ben turned his eyes to Maggie’s father looking every bit the tall, dignified southerner in his tailored coattails and impeccably groomed even in his threadbare clothing. You wouldn’t think to look at him that the South had gone through nearly four years of grueling battle and was now on the brink of defeat.
Ben felt consumed with hate for this senseless Civil War that had killed his father and Big Jim and so many young men chopped down in the prime of life. “One more word from you and I’ll hang you as a spy. Do I make myself clear?”
“Major, found me another deserter.” The sergeant pushed him forward. Dust particles from the courtroom floor drifted behind their boots.
“Sir, I was coming on my own free will.” The man turned his hat brim around between his dirty fingers. “I didn’t mean… I mean I want a second chance.”
This one would make fifty. The parable about the two sons came to Ben’s mind. The one son had change of heart and did his father’s bidding. Where was that? Oh, yes, he remembered now. “Matthew 21:30. Do you know that verse, soldier?”
The soldier bowed his head. “Yes, sir, I know the parable of the two sons well. ’Cause I’m always running when I should be staying put. When I have a change of mind and heart.”
This wasn’t a coincidence. He needed everyone he could get and he didn’t care a hoot what the army said. If it was all right for Jesus, it was okay for him. “You fight alongside us and give us your best, well, I’ll see to it the charges are dropped against you.”
The man bowed his head. “Thank you, major. Only, we’re powerfully outnumbered, sir. I saw a platoon of some 1,000 Confederate cavalry riding this way. That’s why I came back. It’s like the Alamo, only our people are going to be slaughtered. I’ll do my best to fight off these Rebs.”
Ben’s voice softened. “I know you will, soldier.” Ben had sent Jacob to ride to the nearest Union cavalry. General Schofield was the closest; they had to hold onto this courthouse until Schofield made it to them.
Seeing a cloud of dust in the distance, he rested his arms on the windowsill and looked through his binoculars. Confederates riding fast. He heard a rustle of skirts. He turned.
Maggie had stopped wearing her hoops long ago. It complemented her figure not to have them on. My, what a vision she is, standing there with the light of the setting sun behind her, her hair bouncing about her shoulders in loose curls like a wee lass in Ireland. A vision of loveliness, she is.
Get behind me Satan. Him the reason Ben was listening to his dark side. God, I should not have brought her here to the courthouse. Help me, Jesus, protect her. It was best she thought the worst of him. Best she was with her own kind. Will would be a good husband for her. He set his jaw into determined lines and in his most angry voice, said, “Didn’t I tell you to stay in the basement?”
Maggie hesitated. “Why do you hate me so? I don’t believe you ever cared for me.” She stepped forward. He willed his hands at his sides though he yearned to take her into his arms and kiss those sweet lips.
A knock on the courthouse door pulled his attention away from Maggie.
A private ran forward. “Sir, its Big Jim…”
Ben pushed Maggie behind him. What devilment was this? Ben gaped at the large man running toward him with an ear-to-ear grin planted on his swarthy face. Big Jim grabbed Ben and shook him.
“So you left me for dead, did ya? Well be feelin’ me; I’m not a ghost come back… This is Big Jim in the flesh to be sure.”
Matron Burns, her handkerchief in her hands, wiped her nose. Her black mourning bonnet nodded over her forehead, and she shoved it up with her thumb. “Polly found him in the woods two days ago, wandering about.” She pointed to Polly Toole who stood next to her. “He wore only a pair of dirty trousers—”
“All we could make of it was he must have got amnesia,” Polly said. “We gave him a bath and got him some clothes and nursed him back to health.
“Anyway,” Matron Burns continued, “when you came back to the courthouse and we were driving him up the road, I mentioned your name, Major Ben McConnell, and suddenly his face lit up and he remembered everything. Well, nothing would do but for me to drop him off here.”
“You sorry Irishman, what you doing back now?” Ben slapped him on the shoulder. “You’re too solid to be a ghost! You’ve come to your memory too soon to my likin’. We’re goin’ to be fightin’ a battle with no good end in sight. Now get back on that buckboard. Take Maggie and Hattie with ya. Be gone with ya, I say!” Ben turned, blinking away his tears of joy. Well, at least he could save a few lives. He was destined to join his dad soon.
“Matron Burns, you heard the major,” the private said.
“Oh, but Major McConnell, Polly and I have come to get the court minutes, estate records, marriage licenses, and such from the courthouse… in case of a fire.”
Ben turned. “You’re welcome to them and I’ll supply the labor. Soldier, give her as many men as she needs. Where do you plan to take them?”
“Across the street to Elizabeth Toole’s store. Her son fled southward.”
“Well, take Maggie and Hattie. Big Jim can help you and guard the store—”
“I’ll be stayin’ I am,” Big Jim said. “You ain’t goin’ to get rid of me that easily, Ben McConnell.”
Maggie noted Ben’s cold blac
k eyes staring at her, as if amused.
“It’ll be a fine fight, Maggie my—well never you mind. Your Will shall be back at Spirit Wind directly.” He lifted her chin, his eyes looking jestingly into hers. “You’ll be happy to see him.… He being one of your kind and all.”
“Why, of course, why wouldn’t I be?” What a silly question; Will’s children needed their father. “Will did what he had to do as you must do what you have to do.” She shrugged. Ben’s broad shoulders proudly bore the major’s insignia, but Maggie knew it was the responsibility of his men’s lives that burdened his thoughts.
“It’s war,” she whispered, wishing she could feel his arms around her. She longed to feel the strength of them, weep openly, and declare her love for him. But did he love her? “My… my place is by… ” she paused. His lips parted in a sneer, as if she was the most amusing female ever to swoon at his feet.
There was a suave brutality in his eyes she hadn’t noticed before. His white teeth gleamed in the shadows of the setting sunlight. “That first day I met you—”
“I recollect you called me a filthy pirate.”
“But I didn’t know you—”
“But I knew about the likes of you.” He grabbed her arm, then dropped it like it had burned his hand. “Like belongs with like.” He turned his back as if she was of no more consequence to him than a fly buzzing about his head. “Big Jim, take Maggie and Hattie to Matron Burns’ buggy.”
“Ben, no. I want to stay here with you.”
Swept into Destiny Page 24
