Gone for a Soldier

by Ward, Marsha

  Rulon nodded at the sense of that. It was enough botheration that the minister was charging money to read the words over them. He remembered something and said, “Ma told me to ask if there is to be a party afterward. I reckon she wants to pitch in any way she can.”

  “That is so sweet of your mama. I will send her a message. We shall have a small celebration. Perhaps only our families and close friends. Sweet cake and punch will suit for the refreshments. I don’t reckon we need to hire a band. What do you think, Rulon?”

  “No,” he said, fervently shaking his head at the thought of more expense. “I don’t think that’s needed.”

  She considered. “You are right. A band wouldn’t fit in this room anyway.”

  “No band. No,” he agreed. Right now he didn’t care about music. He wanted to kiss her again. Taste that warm honey again.

  Mary looked up at him, trouble drawing her brows into a frown. “You’re determined to enlist on the 22nd next?” Her voice quivered.

  “That’s when the troop is mustering.” He tapped her nose lightly with his forefinger. “It’s only for one year.”

  She sighed. “One year. A very long year.”

  “I’ll write you every day.”

  “You’ll be riding around the countryside. Most likely you won’t find a place to post a daily letter. Instead, promise to write me every week.”

  “Every week, I promise,” he agreed, focusing on her trembling lips and wanting them pressed against his.

  “Here is some good news. Mama has resigned herself to our weddin’. Papa gave her to understand that it is right and proper that we marry now. When she finally agreed, she said she would have India’s belongings moved into the nursery and Ida’s things moved into Sylvia’s room so we can have my bedroom to ourselves.”

  Rulon sat up straight. “No. We’re goin’ out to the farm. Ma has already fixed up a spot for your necessaries and clothes and such.”

  Mary looked at her hands, folded together in her lap. “Oh, I couldn’t. Mama is so set on her plan.” She looked up, appeal in her dark eyes. “We must allow her some small victory in exchange. After all, she did give in to Papa’s reasoning.”

  “But you’ll be my wife. You should live with my family while I’m—”

  Mary’s eyes filled with tears, and she took a shaky breath. “Rulon, don’t say that. You’re quarreling with me.” She hid her face with both hands.

  He ducked down, trying to move her hands aside. “No, sweet girl. I ain’t. It’s the normal way of things to go to your man’s place.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Well, in usual circumstances, you’d have your own house, but—”

  “But you’re going away. We don’t have time to set up housekeeping. Please, just stay here with me until you have to—” She began to sob on the word “go.”

  “With all your sisters?” he mumbled, suddenly alarmed at the notion of sharing a house with the girls.

  Mary sniffed. “They won’t be in the way. Our room is in the back of the house.”

  At her words, so innocently spoken, but so evocative of intimacy and a door closed against the world and prying eyes, Rulon felt his blood warm. He swallowed hard. It’s time to leave.

  Mary undid his resolve by leaning forward and kissing his cheek. “Then it’s settled? You’ll be with me here?”

  He groaned, and moved her face so that her lips met his. “I’ll be with you anywhere you wish,” he whispered against them. “Ah, Mary.” He shuddered, acknowledging to himself that he’d reached his limit of endurance. “I have to go now.”

  “What?”

  He exhaled. “I can’t stay here.” He managed to get to his feet, and reached for his hat. “You rouse my senses, Mary,” he explained in answer to her questioning look. “I can’t bear to touch you without—” He gritted his teeth before he said more than he should to her. “I’m not in a proper state,” he finished, knowing that his words hadn’t reached her understanding. She had no knowledge of his condition. She was a babe, young and innocent of the ways of men, of married folk.

  “You’ll come again soon? We have more plans to make.”

  “When I’m able,” he whispered. “When I can do so.” He jammed his hat on his head, fled the parlor, and barged through the front door.

  ~~~

  Rod — April 27, 1861

  Roderick Owen sat in his favorite chair, enjoying the peace of the evening now that the young ones had all gone upstairs. He stared into the fire, listening to the soothing crackle of the flames for a while before he bestirred himself to go to bed.

  Julia came and stood behind Rod’s chair, her hands resting on his shoulders. “The day is fast approaching,” she murmured.

  “The day?” Rod looked around, craning his neck in an attempt to see his wife.

  “Rulon’s weddin’ day. The ceremony will take place in two weeks. The eleventh of May. That is a Saturday.” She straightened his head and her fingers began to knead his neck. “My baby boy is now a man.” Her voice seemed sunken into her throat.

  “He’d like to presume that of himself.” He captured one of her hands underneath one of his. “There’s a heap of impetuosity in his nature.”

  “Don’t he come by that naturally!” Her free hand wandered up the back of his neck, spreading his hair between her fingers.

  He shivered at the touch. “Woman, what do you mean by that?”

  “Husband,” she returned his bantering tone. “Who was bent on eloping instead of facing my brother to ask for my hand?”

  “Jonathan is formidable.”

  “No more than you.”

  “I have grown into my fearsome posture.”

  She chuckled. “How do you reckon Jonathan arrived there?”

  He pulled her around the side of the chair and lifted her onto his lap. “You are my daily breath, Julie. I don’t take a step without thinkin’ on your beauty and grace.”

  She took his earlobes between her fingers and stroked them. “Husband, what news are you tryin’ to ease into breakin’ to me?”

  He sighed, a long exhalation. “You know me too well, wife.” He enfolded her in his arms and drew her close, nuzzling the top of her head. “I am fixin’ to raise a cavalry company.”

  She struggled against him, squirming until she was in a position to see his face. “You wouldn’t! Can’t you be satisfied that you went off when you were young and played at war in a foreign land?”

  Her irritation pricked both his conscience and his pride, but he could choose to address only one or the other. He chose to be properly abashed, but to lay his actions to pressure.

  “Chester Bates brought the idea to me. It seems sound.”

  “You’d blame your friend for the notion? Roderick Owen, you are a scoundrel.”

  “I... am a scoundrel,” he agreed, tilting his head to the side. “But I’m your scoundrel, and my native land’s scoundrel. I can’t let the Yankees invade my home.”

  In a flash, she turned into a melting woman and sank heavily against his chest. “I had hoped to avoid losing you to this squabble,” she murmured, her voice catching.

  “Oh Julie, Julie.” He felt the softening of his sinews that her distress brought upon him these days. Tenderness had not been native to his nature, but over many years, he had learned a hard-won lesson. Tenderness betwixt a man and his wife was well worth cultivating. “I cannot pretend to know what is in store for me. I cannot lie on that point to ease your feelin’s.” He kissed her hair. “Know this, woman. I will love you beyond any power that death has to separate us.”

  She wept in his arms, soft sobs she surely was trying to keep within the bounds of their chair. He could only whisper endearments and hold her closer to his soul.

  Chapter 4

  Mary — May 1, 1861

  Mary sat in a small room off the kitchen where light from the sun illuminated the purple fabric in her lap. The tip of her tongue peeked out from between her lips as she concentrated on taking small stitches to join two pieces of the m
aterial together. Her sister Ida sat across her, sewing a seam into another two pieces of fabric.

  “This is such tedious work,” Ida said with a sigh. “Why can’t Papa buy us one of those sewing machines?” She batted at the golden curls against her neck. “It is so warm today.”

  “Those machines are too expensive, Ida. Papa cannot afford to buy us one.” Mary bent over to bite off the end of a thread. “Besides, he cannot procure one soon enough. You know I have a limited amount of time to finish my dress. Keep stitching.”

  Ida took one stitch, then stopped to ask, “Why is Papa allowing you to marry? You’re not even fifteen yet. Mama wants you to wait until this war is over.”

  “That is my affair. Mama already agreed that I can wed, and there isn’t any time to spare. If you don’t want to help me with this skirt, go see if India brought home the lard for my cakes, and send her in here. Her stitches may not be pretty, but they will serve.”

  Ida put her work in her lap. “I think your beau is selfish. He is going off to war, but first, he wants to get married and do those things to you, those things Papa does to Mama.”

  “Ida!” Mary felt a flush going up her neck.

  “Disgusting!”

  “What are you talking about?” The heat of the flush was spreading throughout her body, and Mary shifted her position on the hard chair.

  “Lizzie Sue told me all about it. She said—”

  “That meddling little gossip? You cannot pay any attention to what she says, Ida. She doesn’t know anything.” She herself didn’t know anything, just that Rulon’s kisses—when she allowed him to kiss her—drove her to distraction with feelings she had not experienced before he began coming around and they had come to an understanding.

  “Yes she does. She’s told me many things that are true.”

  Mary noticed her sister’s idle hands, and waggled her finger at them, relieved to find something to divert her thoughts from Rulon. “You are talking about this so you don’t have to help me.”

  Ida smirked. “You’re going to do those disgusting things with Rulon.”

  Mary sniffed in pretended disdain. “I cannot imagine what you are talking about.”

  “You had better find out quick. Ask Mama.”

  “You know she won’t discuss anything like that.” Mary had tried to broach the subject.

  “What won’t I discuss?” asked Mrs. Hilbrands as she entered the room.

  “Nothing, Mama,” said Mary. “We were only talking nonsense.”

  “I can imagine.” Mrs. Hilbrands turned to her younger daughter. “Ida, did you dust the parlor this morning? I swear there is dust laying on all the surfaces in the room.”

  “I’m sorry, Mama. Mary has been hounding me to help her finish sewing her skirt.”

  “You must not neglect your chores. Each one teaches you how to manage a household one day.”

  “Yes, Mama. Shall I go now and dust?”

  “That is wise, daughter.”

  “Mama,” Mary protested, but her mother cut her off.

  “You must manage your dress by yourself, Mary. We cannot quit our tasks merely because you are going to be wed. Against my advice, I might add.”

  Ida arose and made a face at Mary behind their mama’s back. Then she left the room with a flounce of her skirt.

  “You could have chosen to wear your Sunday dress, after all, instead of making a new one.”

  “I deserve to have a new dress when I make such a large change in my life.”

  “I would rather you wait until you are sixteen.”

  “I cannot wait. We have discussed this time and again. I am determined to become Rulon’s wife as soon as may be.”

  “That young devil will be the ruination of you. He is only thinking of his own interests.”

  Mary stood. “I will not listen to this talk against Rulon. I believe I will go sweep the porch now.” She put down her unfinished skirt and left the room, feeling like crying, but holding her chin high. She would marry Rulon, and he would not be her ruination.

  ~~~

  Rulon — May 7, 1861

  “You’ll be needing a horse.”

  Rulon turned from scooping oats out of the grain bin to see his father leaning against the door frame. Since Pa almost never leaned against anything, Rulon wondered how long he’d been standing there surveying him.

  “I reckon I will. What will you take in trade for the bay?”

  “You’ve worked the farm since you were old enough to lift a shovel or hoe weeds in the field. I figure that labor is plenty in exchange for the bay and her tack.”

  Rulon felt his throat constrict with sudden emotion. “I’m obliged,” he managed to get out in a husky voice.

  “You sure it’s the bay you want? The sorrel is well mannered.”

  “The bay has spirit and don’t spook easily. I reckon she would make a good battle mount.”

  “That’s canny thinkin’, son. I agree. She will be steady under fire.”

  Rulon nodded. In a matter of days, he would leave this farmstead to live in town with his bride. Soon after, he expected to be doing some kind of patrolling, or picket duty, or whatever it was a cavalryman did to defend his country. That is, if he ever got a reply to his letter. If he wasn’t acceptable to Captain Yancey and the Harrisonburg Cavalry troop, he would have to start his search all over again. He found himself chewing on the inside of his cheek.

  “What has you worried, boy?”

  “I ain’t heard from Harrisonburg yet.”

  “Give it time, give it time. Yancey’s bound to be a busy man. A lawyer, I hear. It’s likely he’s wrapping up his business.”

  “You’re right. But getting married also has me perplexed.” He shook his head. “The tasks Mary has been doing make my head swim.”

  Pa chuckled. “The ladies like everything fancy, son. Take a deep breath. Enjoy your day. It will be here before you know it.”

  “I wish I could believe that. It seems a lifetime away.”

  Pa nodded his head in understanding. “The day will come. By the way, your ma says there is another item you’ll be needing. My ma passed down her weddin’ ring to me when she died. It was intended for your ma to wear, but she already had the one I give her when we married, and she preferred that one. She said you should have it to put on Miss Mary’s finger. She’ll give it to you when the day comes around.” He raised his eyebrow. “I wouldn’t have given a geegaw like that a thought, so I’m pleased she recalled the little ring.”

  “Such a lot of to-do.” He whistled.

  Pa came over and clapped his hand on Rulon’s shoulder. “Silken entanglements, boy. All these arrangements for fancy ceremony and parties and such sometimes seem unnecessary, but they keep the ladies happy. That’s what matters, after all. Keep the wife happy, and you’ll have a happy life.” He tightened his grip briefly, then removed his hand.

  “That’s the sum total of your fatherly advice?” Rulon grinned wryly. “No words of wisdom for, other matters?” His face felt hot as he said the words.

  Pa stared at him for a long time, and Rulon noticed a pink tinge on his father’s forehead.

  “Words of wisdom?” Pa cleared his throat. “Be gentle.” He paused for a long moment, then added, “Work out the rest yourself.” He turned away, then looked back over his shoulder. “Treat the bay gentle. She’s a lady, too.”

  He was gone in a moment, and Rulon was left alone to chew on both his cheek and the words that still seemed to hang in the air.

  ~~~

  Julia — May 8, 1861

  When Rulon came into the house at noon for dinner, Julia had been so intent upon the project she was doing with the girls that she was caught at what had remained a secret for some days.

  “Ma,” he said, his rising voice reflecting his surprise.

  She stood and tried to put the work in her lap off to the side where he could not view it, but knew he had seen what they were up to. Marie had similarly shoved worsted material down on the floor
beside her, but Julianna wasn’t so wise, and only froze with her needle caught in grey fabric.

  “Is that a uniform? I haven’t even heard back yet from Captain Yancey. Why would you—”

  “The answer is ‘yes,’ and it doesn’t matter if you go with the Harrisonburg Troop or some other company. I reckon you’re a-goin’, and we have to put the best shine on the matter.” She knew she sounded a bit defensive, but couldn’t help defending her action in preparing a proper send-off for her first born. “I know you are set on bein’ a cavalryman in this tussle, so you’ll go as the fine-lookin’ son of Roderick Owen of Shenandoah County, with a grand new suit of clothes, even if it is a uniform.” She stood as straight as she could, hoping she didn’t dissolve into tears and shame herself.

  “We’re beholden to Miss Mary for keeping silent about the material your ma purchased,” Rod said from behind Rulon. “It was difficult for Randolph Hilbrands to find the braid, but he persevered, and found it in a shop down to Richmond.” He walked over and held up the decorative sleeve resting in Julianna’s lap. “The outfit will serve you well, wherever you end up.”

  The other boys crowded into the room behind Rulon, who stood slack-jawed, half-blocking the doorway.

  Ben crossed over behind Marie and picked up the pants she had been working on. “Ha! A gold stripe down the leg? This is too fine for you, Rule.”

  Rod swung around, saying, “That’s enough, Benjamin.”

  Julia pursed her lips as she looked around. A swirl of male voices surrounded her. Did boys relish fighting all their lives? Her sons’ excitement filled the space in the room, and she had to raise her voice to be heard over the hubbub. “Marie, is the table laid?”

  “Yes, Ma,” she answered. “Julianna, come help me serve.”

  Julia followed her daughters to the kitchen. How had her family become so firmly entangled in this war?

  ~~~

  Mary — May 10, 1861

  Mary stood in the garden, halting for a moment before she resumed her pacing beneath the bower made of lilac bushes. Was everything ready? She had gone over her lists time after time, but felt that she had neglected a detail, some tiny particular that would put a finishing touch on her preparations. She stepped out onto the path again.