by Ward, Marsha
He must have made a noise, perhaps cleared his throat unconsciously, because before he could rise and pick her up, she opened her eyes. Focus came slowly, but then her eyes sharpened with recognition.
“Rod?” She put out a hand and touched him lightly on the breast of his shirt. “Is Peter—”
Before she could ask, he shook his head and said, “No, I failed you, Julie. He’d already left before I got to Edinburg.”
Her eyes softened, and he thought she would begin to weep, but she surprised him by saying quietly, “Such an impetuous boy. So like his pa.”
He could only shake his head.
She continued. “You’re wore out, husband. Did you eat? I saved you a plate of supper.”
“I couldn’t eat it this late, wife. I am bone-weary. Come. We need sleep.”
Chapter 9
Rulon — June 27, 1861
Troopers from Company “I” had followed a Yankee patrol for an hour before they lost sight of the enemy and pulled up in a grassy meadow. An older member of the troop, Vernon Earl, was ordered to dismount and puzzle out the direction the patrol had taken. As Rulon awaited the command to move out, he dozed in the hot sun, gratified to catch a few moments of rest.
He started awake when someone slapped his leg and a gruff voice said, “Ho, Owen! You’ve slept long enough. Get down and lend the old man a fresh set of eyes.”
His sergeant was the speaker, and Rulon hastened to swing off the horse, responding with a “Yes suh” that was half drawled and half garbled from drowsiness. He glanced around to find the man on whom they relied in such situations. Vernon Earl had learned his tracking skills over a lifetime of hunting game in the Blue Ridge Mountains. However, his sight had recently begun to give him trouble.
“Mind where you step!” the old man warned as Rulon approached. “Don’t bend the grass.”
Rulon stopped. What was he supposed to do for the man? He slapped at a whining mosquito, which put him in mind of an old bite now itchy. As he scratched it, Earl called to him.
“Tread there and there,” he said, pointing with a grizzled forefinger. “Look down. Notice the hoof prints?”
Rulon took a step where the man had indicated, then glanced downward. He saw nothing resembling what Earl had mentioned. “No.”
“Well, they ain’t none. The horses didn’t come this-a-way.” He began to walk ahead at an angle, head down, and Rulon followed.
When he caught up, he asked, “What are you looking for?”
“Bent grass. Clumps of overturned sod. Horse apples.” Earl chuckled. “If you ain’t keerful, you’ll find the horse apples first with your boots.”
Rulon lifted a foot surreptitiously and peered at the bottom. It appeared damp from mashing down the grass where’s he’d been stepping, but to his relief, it was not coated with horse dung. However, when he put his foot down again, he spotted a place where faint variations made him think perhaps the grass had been disturbed. When he took a step closer, he found sod scattered about in a regular pattern, on a line heading off towards a wooded area.
“Mr. Earl.” Once he had the man’s attention, Rulon pointed out the patch. “Is this what we seek?”
Earl knelt on one knee and examined the overturned sod. He stirred a clump with a finger to break it up, then bent over and smelled it. When he arose, he said, “That’s it precisely, boy. You have a good eye.”
Rulon felt a prickle of pride, but had no idea what the man had been about when he had worked with the clod of earth. He determined to discover the man’s secrets by helping out at every opportunity and thereby learn the tracking skill.
~~~
Julia — July 10, 1861
After spending a long day spinning yarn, Julia sat down to write a letter to her eldest.
July 10 1861
Owen Farm
Dear son Rulon,
We are well here on the farm. Yor father is raising a Cavalry company that will leave soon to Defend us. Ben marched off with Allen’s Infantry. Peter ran away with the horse we called Brownie to join a cavalry company raised in Edinburg. Ben so cottoned to that horse. He will be mortified if any harm comes to it.
I am sorry to tell you that Peter left without our Blessing and a proper Send Off. He always had a streak of the willful, as you well know from Celebratin your nuptials with that Colorful eye. I will say no more of Peter’s escapade. He will learn Discipline in the Army, no dout.
We had an excitement a few days ago when a large meteor, as the scientific men told us, came down from the sky and exploded with a great noise and shower of light. Not knowing the origin of the heavenly display at first, we imagined that we were under a surprise Yankee bombardment, and of corse went down to the Cellar for safety. After an hour’s wait and no more Shells sent, as we supposed, we emerged to find that no Federal Army had come upon us. When we later learned the True Origin of the great sound, we felt chagrined and foolish at our actions and the time wasted. However, we safely escaped the supposed attack, and count our reaction as a fine drill for an actual event of that sort.
You may imagine how little Julianna carried on with a nervous fit for quite a time, but I hardly blamed her, as I was equally frightened by the great sound and show of light.
I must tell you that your dear wife has high hopes that she will have happy news to relate to you soon. I am overjoied at the prospect.
Be firm and stedfast at all hazards, dear son, and uphold the Good Owen Name. Your father and I bear you a great affection.
Your mother
Julia Helm Owen
When she had finished the task, she went to give the letter to Rod so he could post it on his next visit to town.
“Husband, it pains me that you are going off to fight a young man’s war,” she said, as she settled into her chair before the fireplace.
“Don’t give in to your nerves, Julie,” he said. “You know I can’t keep away from this scrap.”
She made a scoffing noise. “You don’t have to relish it so.”
“Am I relishing war? Not so. My intent is to keep you and my young’uns safe, to the best of my powers.”
She wanted to go over to Rod’s chair, curl up in his lap, gain comfort from his touch, but those young’uns were seated around the room, and she could not bear to display to them so much of her need. She must make a strong show before them.
“I’ve written to Rulon,” she said instead. “I told him about the Great Noise.” She dangled the envelope from her hand. “I wonder if cannon fire is louder than that meteor.”
Her husband looked over at her.
She read concern for her in his eyes. It ever was there, his steadfast devotion to his duty toward her. At other times the look added affection, and at special moments, frank ardor heated the mixture to an explosive glance that quickened her vitals. But for tonight, the gaze contained concern and duty.
“It has been many years since I’ve had experience of cannon fire.” He took the envelope from her, letting his index finger rest upon the back of her hand. “I’ll take this to town on Friday.”
She nodded, releasing the paper. So few folk understood her man as she did. He had just told her he cherished her. It was her turn to relish something in her life, and this bit of byplay between them would do nicely.
“Ben, bring the Bible,” Rod said. “Time for devotions.” He looked toward Julia.
She noted that his glance now contained more than merely the concern it had held. The crickets had barely begun to chirp. She laid her hand over her heart and felt the increase in its speed. A weeknight? She smiled to herself, trying to get her mind focused on godly pursuits to end the day.
~~~
Mary — July 12, 1861
Two months had passed since her wedding day, and Mary was at last satisfied that she was with child. The totality of the evidence was overwhelming. She was quite queasy. She couldn’t stand many smells about the house, especially the odor of her own vomit. Her breasts remained tender and felt huge. A part of
them had changed color, and the whiter areas were laced with dark blue veins. Her body felt ungainly and somehow different. Most convincing of all, she had not been visited by the women’s curse.
Once she had gained enough equilibrium to go to work and ensconce herself in the storeroom, she pulled a piece of paper from a sheaf and prepared to write to her husband.
She sat for a long time, pen un-dipped in the ink, trying to decide how to break the news. Did she dare to write in plain language all that was happening to her? What if the letter fell into enemy hands? This letter wasn’t going to be a state secret, but it was private between herself and Rulon, and precious to her. What if one of the soldiers in his company got his hands on it and read out the words? Did men in such close quarters tease each other in such a way? She had to suppose they might, judging from the observations she had made of Rulon’s brothers.
What a perplexity. She wanted to share with Rulon the wonderment of the changes in her body, the puzzling moods that sent her into a spiral of emotions, the yearnings to hold the babe she now sheltered inside her body.
What if he didn’t care? What if his war work was too much of a burden upon his mind and he had no time for dithering about her?
In the end, she took the safe road, and wrote him a short note.
12 July, 1861
Mnt Jackson, Shen. Cty, Via.
Dear Husband,
If you are able to come home this winter, you will notice changes in my person, as you will have a child after the turn of the year. I am as well as can be expected.
Mama is dificult. I reckon she gave no thot to being with child at her advanced age. She is past 30, after all. I hope she is breeding a boy, for it surely is her last chance.
I have no dout you left me a boy. Yor mama smiles and agrees.
Be safe, dear Rulon, I pray you. Hold this letter to yor heart and you will feel all the affection I put into it.
Yor own Mary
After she wrote and sealed it, she wished she had put in more of the feelings she was experiencing daily. Not the unhappy things like throwing up her food, but the more positive ones, like filling out her bodices more, and the euphoria of knowing she would bear him a child. No matter. It was a safe letter, and she hoped he would read between the lines to discover the full meaning of her words and sense her deep emotions.
~~~
Rulon — July 16, 1861
One night after a very exciting day on patrol and in camp, Rulon wrote to Mary.
16 July, 1861
In Camp at Berkeley Co. Va.
My dear Mary,
Our troop has been much engaged in traveling about the county, traping the Federal boys when they venture out from Martinsburg to hunt, which causes them to Hate us. Today we got word that J.E.B. Sturt is now Colonel of our regiment in fact, having receeved that comission of rank. I may have told you Harrisonburg Cavalry is assigned as Company I in 1st Regt. Va. Cavalry. This is a Large regimnt, haveing twelve Companys in all on this Date.
Col. Sturt insists on drills every Morning and Parade in ev’n. He also takes the Companys out himself to Patrol, which can be exciting when we come up amongst the enemy. Have no fears, Mary, as He has always brung us Through without incident. He does not permit Us to retreet, if on Foot, with our backs to the foe, but must March backwards to where we left the horses. If mounted, we may only trot away, for he says we are to reserve a Gallop for the Charge. The Col stirs every mans blood with his bravery.
Dear wife, I hope You find yorself well. I delited to lern in your last lett’r that you hope for the best. I had a note from Ma in which she said you now have further news for me. which I am anxious to receev. I assure you that I carry each of yor letters against my heart until I am handed the next one.
With fondest remembrance of your kind soul,
Yor husband,
Rulon S. Owen, trooper
1st Regt. Va. Cav., Co. I
After he had signed his name, he re-read what he had told his wife. Perhaps he should not have mentioned about Colonel Stuart taking them into the enemy lines, but the deed was done, and he didn’t have time to re-do the letter.
He sealed the envelope and gave the flap a quick kiss, feeling foolish as he did it, but it comforted him that Mary’s fingers would touch the spot. Perhaps she would bring the paper to her own lips before she opened the flap. Thinking that was almost as good as feeling her lips under his.
He gave in the letter to be posted, and trudged back to his lonely cot.
~~~
Ella Ruth — July 19, 1861
Ella Ruth breezed into her father’s office one afternoon, glanced at the three other men whose buzzing conversation resembled a dispute, shrugged her shoulders, and approached her father anyway.
“Poppa, you really must send for this,” she said, waving a sheet of paper under his nose. When his look held a stormy aspect, she seated herself on his lap and put her arms around his neck. “Please, Poppa? If you put in the order now, I will have it back from Paris before it goes out of style.”
She watched as her father’s neck and face went from the normal pink color to a glowing scarlet. Perhaps she should not have interrupted his little meeting, she mused. Business was, to him, important, but she was also important, was she not? Did not he enjoy pampering her as much as her heart desired? What a pity Ben would not do so.
“Daughter!”
To her surprise, the word exploded from her father’s lips, and he put her off his lap with firm hands.
“I am engaged, as you can see,” he added, his voice elevated and angry. “We are not to be disturbed!” He gave her a little shove back toward the doorway.
Under the impetus of his push, Ella Ruth stumbled out of the room, chagrined and confused. Poppa had never treated her in such a manner before. True, she had burst into his meeting, but he always had delighted in giving her whatever she had asked. Why was his behavior so odd today?
She decided to listen to the conversation spilling quite clearly through the still-open door. The loudest voice went on and on about “nothing ventured,” while another voice agreed with every point. Her father and the third man countered with “risky” and “ships boarded,” and “cotton prices.”
After several minutes, her head began to hurt because the argumentative exchanges held no meaning for her. However, they seemed to hold significant meaning for Poppa, and they had turned his outlook sour. Perhaps it was in her best interest to pay better attention to his concerns. She must make a beginning another time, when her head had ceased pounding.
Was all of the nonsense because of this war Ben had insisted was going to change everything? Something had certainly changed Poppa.
She went up the stairs to her room to rest. That surely must cure her headache. She sighed as she opened the door. She missed Ben. Her plan had been to convince Poppa that her ultimate happiness depended upon becoming Ben’s bride in a magnificent ceremony this September, which would have entertained her with a great many delightful activities this summer. Now she had nothing to do with her time.
She sat at her dressing table and stared at her reddened face in the mirror. She no longer envisioned a blissful summer of shopping and parties, a splendid wedding with many attendants, and a bright future as Ben’s wife. Ben had left her flat, going off to take target practice against the Yankees. She sighed and tested her forehead with the back of her hand. Had she a fever? No. Evidently not, notwithstanding her flushed cheeks. She touched her lips. How she missed Ben’s kisses. A chill raced down her spine. Why had he gone in such haste, without even coming around to say goodbye?
Upon several moments of reflection, she considered that in all fairness to Ben, she had treated him with a teensy bit of disdain at their final meeting behind the mill, when he had offered her his name, his hand, his heart. In that moment, those had not been enough. She had thought she needed the pomp, the dress, the flowers, the crowd of friends to admire her good fortune and her conquest. Her heart lurched, leaving a tightnes
s in her chest.
She leaned her elbows on the table. What would Momma say about leaning on them? No matter. She didn’t care if they became rough and red. She cupped her cheeks in her palms. The longer she stared at herself, the more desolate she felt as she realized she had been wrong. Of what worth to her was the lacy dress hanging in her armoire when she had lost the man she loved?
She thought back to how Poppa’s recent rejection had made her feel: confused, chagrined, put out, unappreciated, even unloved. Her cheeks grew hot beneath her fingertips as shame overwhelmed her. She had rejected Ben’s offer because it didn’t come with the elaborate trappings she had always dreamed of. She had rejected him. How must he feel?
She knew now. Confused. Unappreciated. Unloved. She had wronged him. She had broken his heart.
Oh, Ben.
Ella Ruth put her head down on her crossed arms and sobbed.
Chapter 10
Rulon — July 21, 1861
Orders had come down from General Johnston’s headquarters to keep eyes on the enemy army led by General Patterson that had invaded the Valley. For the last few days, Rulon’s company had been engaged in riding in countermoves against the Federal troops.
Near Winchester, a patrol became a skirmish when four members of Company “I” encountered enemy soldiers willing to fight. After dashing at each other a few times with no significant injury on either side, the Federal patrol withdrew and must have come across an artillery battery as they retreated. Soon after, the foursome from the Harrisonburg Cavalry found themselves targets of a Yankee bombardment.
Rulon hunkered down in a ditch alongside Owen Leoyd while artillery shells explored the air above them.
Leoyd said, “Them shells always whistle that-a-way when they miss you. If you don’t hear ‘em, they’re gonna get you, so bless the noise of ‘em.”
