“So what Jedediah said did spook you.”
“Not so much as what he did.”
She covered her mouth with her hands, but the words had already slipped out and it was too late to take them back.
Moses’s voice was quiet but forceful.
“What exactly did he do?”
Clara cast a glance out the window to make sure no one was in earshot. Enid and Mary were busy tending to a goat with a sore hoof. Abram and Percy were supposed to be mucking the horse’s stall in the barn, but she could see Abram staring at Mary all moony-eyed as he leaned on his shovel.
“He tried to have his way with me a few days ago.”
Moses gripped his walking stick so tightly Clara feared it might splinter.
“Please tell me he didn’t succeed.”
“No, I fought him off. I nicked him with a butcher knife and told him I’d cut his throat if he tried anything like that again.”
This time, Moses’s smile seemed to contain some of its former mirth.
“I believe you would, too.”
“I’m glad you believe me, but I don’t think he did.”
“Have you told the sheriff what happened?”
“Why would I? Jedediah didn’t leave a mark on me, and he’s the one who came away wounded. If I said anything, I might be the one who ended up in jail instead of him.”
“What can I do to help?”
“What can you do? His father owns most of the land in Hardin County and half the people in it. Your family and mine are the only holdouts.”
“All the more reason for us to stick together.”
Clara pressed the bottom pie crust into a pan and poured in the preserves. Then she laid the other pie crust on top, trimmed the edges with a paring knife, and poked several holes in the dough so steam could escape while the pie baked.
“Enid says you’re sweet on me,” she said after she set the pie in the oven. “Is that true?”
The steady rhythm of Moses’s rocking faltered for a moment.
“It was a long time ago, but no more.”
Clara poured herself a cup of coffee as she took a much-needed rest. She had been bustling about for hours, and this was the first chance she’d had to sit still for more than five minutes at a spell. “What happened to change your mind?”
“I knew the feelings you had for me weren’t the same as the ones I had for you, so I told myself it wouldn’t make sense to go chasing after lost causes.”
Clara was glad Moses was able to resolve the issue without any awkwardness transpiring between them. She loved him in her own way. Just not the way he wanted.
“I wish you could teach Jedediah to follow your example.”
“It wouldn’t do any good. He’s a more prideful man than I am. Turning him down the way you did most likely wounded his spirit, not just his flesh. Now he’s probably looking to find a way to restore his pride and get back at you in the process.”
Clara shivered despite the combined warmth of the fire in the stove and the cup of hot coffee in her hands.
“That’s what I’m afraid of. I don’t want something to happen to my family because of me. Jedediah wouldn’t dare to attempt to take such liberties if Papa and Solomon were home, but I’ve got to accept the possibility that they might never come back.”
She set the cup of coffee down and spread her palms on the table, finding strength in the worn wood surface.
“Maybe Mama was right. She always said a woman didn’t need a man to survive. If that’s the case, I don’t need a man to look after my family. I can do it myself.”
Chapter Seven
“Here,” Maynard said as he tossed Wilhelmina two short lengths of rope.
“What do you want me to do with these?”
“Tie up the prisoners. And make sure you cinch them up good and tight. We don’t want either of them getting any ideas about busting loose once we leave camp. The last thing we need is two escaped Rebs on our hands.”
While Erwin trained his rifle on Solomon, Wilhelmina leaned into the ambulance wagon and tied one of the lengths of rope around Lee’s wrists. Lee was still out of his head with fever and was probably too weak to hurt a fly, but Wilhelmina couldn’t disobey Maynard’s order. He had been promoted from private to sergeant after “his” capture of the prisoners and had been showing off his new stripes ever since like a society lady flashing a shiny new bauble.
When she approached Solomon with the second length of rope, he fixed her with a baleful glare.
“Turn around.”
She pitched her voice even lower than she normally did to show she wasn’t afraid of him, even though the hateful look in his eyes struck fear in her heart.
Solomon spit at her feet but did as she asked. He slowly turned around and placed his hands behind his back so she could bind his wrists.
“Whoa, now,” Maynard said from his perch next to the wagon driver, “what do you think you’re doing, Fredericks? Tie his hands in front of him not behind him. Unless you want to volunteer to pull his pecker out and hold it for him every time he has to piss.”
“What’s this predilection you seem to have with peckers, Sarge?” Erwin asked good-naturedly. “First mine, now this boy’s. I’m of a mind to think you’re a mite obsessed.”
Solomon snickered at the joke. Truth be told, Wilhelmina found it pretty funny, too, though she didn’t dare laugh because Maynard obviously didn’t seem to find the humor in it. His face turned purple with rage and his voice shook as he said, “Every one of you better wipe those smiles off your faces right now or I’ll show you what for.”
“Calm down, Maynard,” Erwin said, trying to placate him. “I didn’t mean any harm. I was just trying to bring a little light to the darkness in which we currently find ourselves.”
“This ‘darkness,’ as you put it, ain’t no laughing matter. Neither is my reputation. I won’t have it sullied by the likes of you or that Rebel trash you found in the woods.”
“To paraphrase the great William Shakespeare,” Erwin whispered, “I think the fellow doth protest too much.”
“Quit your mumbling, Weekley, and get your ass in this wagon,” Maynard said. “You, too, Fredericks. It’s time for us to perform our assigned duty and take these sorry excuses for soldiers to prison. I’ll deal with your insolence when we get back from Kentucky.”
“He ain’t right in the head,” Solomon said after Wilhelmina helped him into the wagon and sat him next to the stretcher where his father lay prone. He jerked his chin at Maynard’s back. “I’ve seen people like him before. Mean for no reason is what he is. And you bastards are dumb enough to follow him.”
Maynard whirled around.
“Keep talking, Reb, and I’ll show you exactly how mean I can be.”
He pulled a filthy handkerchief from his pocket, blew his nose in it with great fanfare, and tossed the soiled cloth in the back of the wagon.
“Gag him with that, Weekley, so I won’t have to listen to that annoying Tennessee drawl of his all the way to Louisville.”
Erwin looked at the handkerchief but didn’t move to pick it up.
“Are you disobeying a direct order, soldier? If you are, I’m sure I can find you a spot in the same cell as your newfound friends here.”
“I’m sorry, son,” Erwin said under his breath as he slipped the handkerchief into Solomon’s mouth and tied it around the back of his head. “I’m just doing what I’m told.”
Solomon mumbled something that sounded like “Ain’t we all?”
The ride to the train station was bumpy, the wagon’s wheels bouncing over the deep ruts the heavy artillery carts had left in the narrow dirt road. Wilhelmina placed her hand on Lee’s chest to keep him from rolling off his stretcher. She could feel his lungs rattle each time he breathed. He sounded more like a hissing cat than a man. She laid a blanket over him to keep him warm.
“You’ve got a fine bedside manner, Fredericks,” Maynard said. “You ought to quit trying to be a soldier and
try your hand at nursing instead.”
“This man may be my enemy, but he still deserves respect.”
“The only thing he deserves is to be put out of his misery. The way he’s sounding, it won’t be long now.”
Solomon couldn’t speak clearly with the gag in his mouth, but the expression in his eyes as he looked at his father was more eloquent than any words he could have uttered. Lee wouldn’t survive in prison. They all knew it. He was too weak to fend off any predatory inmates he came across, and the virulent diseases endemic to such places would wreak havoc on his diminished immune system. He and Solomon were supposed to remain in the Louisville Military Prison until the end of the war, which could occur in a matter of months if Union forces pressed their advantage and kept pushing farther south, but the indefinite term seemed more like a death sentence.
“Ain’t right,” Solomon mumbled around the gag. “It just ain’t right. A man should die in his own house with his loved ones gathered around him to say fare-thee-well, not locked up in some godforsaken prison camp far from home.”
Wilhelmina pondered her own fate. What would happen to her if she were wounded or killed? Would anyone she loved claim her body and visit her crypt to keep her memory alive, or would she be tossed into an unmarked grave and quickly forgotten?
“Whoa.” The driver pulled on the reins and urged the horses to stop as the wagon neared the train station.
Maynard stood on the platform with Solomon after Wilhelmina and Erwin helped him climb down from the wagon. Wilhelmina and Erwin struggled to lift Lee’s stretcher and carry him onboard the waiting train. Even though he was only skin and bones, his dead weight seemed much heavier. As Wilhelmina’s arms trembled with fatigue, she was eager to free herself of her terrible burden.
The train was similar to the one Wilhelmina and her fellow recruits had ridden from Pittsburgh. Most of the cars were filled with nothing but empty space to leave as much room as possible for supplies. The few passenger cars were outfitted with wooden benches instead of the plush seats and luxurious accommodations common to the first class cabins Wilhelmina had inhabited in the past.
She and Erwin placed Lee’s stretcher on one of the benches and took a seat on either side of him. Wilhelmina sat on the bench in front and Erwin on the one behind. Wilhelmina spread her legs, taking up as much room as she could. Men, she had observed, never seemed to have enough space. They sat, stood, and walked like they were on the lookout for more.
Maynard escorted Solomon near the front of the car and positioned himself so he could keep an eye on his prisoner at all times.
The ambulance driver took off his hat and waved it in the air as the train whistle blew and the cars began to move.
“Good luck, boys. Don’t run into any booby traps along the way.”
Most of the countryside had been sabotaged by the Confederates. Rail lines had been heated and twisted out of shape and the wooden cross ties burned to slow or halt the Union army’s flow of supplies from the North. Telegraph poles had also been chopped down, their vital lines of communication cut. Some farmers had even poisoned their wells and ponds so advancing troops couldn’t have fresh water. None of it made sense. How could citizens of the same country turn on each other so completely?
As the train slowly chugged out of the station, a few local boys ran after it to throw rotten eggs at the windows.
“Go home, Yankees. We don’t want you here,” they catcalled as the odor of sulfur permeated the car.
Maynard lowered the window closest to him, stuck his rifle into the gap, and fired a shot in the air. The egg tossers scattered like leaves on the wind. “That’ll show them.”
“No, don’t!”
Wilhelmina’s attempted warning came too late. Solomon was on Maynard before he could turn around. He shoved Maynard face-first into the window. Maynard’s head hit the thick glass with a fearsome thud. Wilhelmina tried to rise to her feet, but she felt strong hands around her neck dragging her down.
“Don’t make me do it, boy,” Lee whispered hoarsely in her ear as the train began to pick up speed. “Please don’t make me.”
Wilhelmina clawed at her neck as the rope around Lee’s wrists bit into her flesh, cutting off her air. She heard the sounds of a struggle as Solomon and Maynard wrestled for control of the pearl-handled pistol Maynard always wore tucked into his belt.
“I’m done for, Solomon,” Lee said. “Don’t worry about me. Save yourself.”
Wilhelmina’s head swam, and her vision started to go gray around the edges. She tried everything she could but was unable to break Lee’s grip. She felt herself begin to weaken as her arms and legs grew impossibly heavy. Then, just before she thought she might lose consciousness, the weight pressing against her back was lifted.
Erwin cracked Lee in the back of his head with the butt of his rifle. Lee fell limply to the floor, blood streaming from a gash in his scalp.
“Can you manage, son?” Erwin asked, pulling Wilhelmina to her feet.
Wilhelmina tried to say, “Yes,” but she couldn’t stop coughing long enough to get the words out. The skin around her neck felt like it had been rubbed raw. The inside of her throat felt much the same way. Each breath burned as she tried to force air into her lungs.
“Stay here.”
Erwin deposited her on the bench and headed to the front of the car.
“Drop the gun, son.”
Solomon wrapped one arm around Maynard’s neck and positioned Maynard’s body in front of him like a shield.
“Don’t come any closer,” he said, pressing the pistol to Maynard’s head as he edged toward the door, “or I’ll blow his head clean off.”
“Think about what you’re doing,” Erwin said. “If you kill him, the Union will hang you. If you try to escape, they’ll hang you for that, too. If you survive the fall after you jump off this train and try to return to your unit, the Confederacy will shoot you for desertion.”
“Sounds like I’m dead either way, don’t it? I might as well take as many Yankees with me as I can.”
Solomon shoved Maynard to one side and threw himself out the door. Even over the roaring of the engine and the clattering of the train’s wheels against the steel tracks, Wilhelmina heard the thud when Solomon’s body hit the ground. She screwed up her courage and peered out the window, fully prepared to see Solomon’s broken body lying in the meadow they were passing at breakneck speed. She was amazed to see Solomon on his feet, dragging his left leg awkwardly behind him as he half-ran, half-shuffled toward the woods.
“Shoot him, Weekley,” Maynard said, gesturing toward Solomon’s rapidly disappearing form. When Erwin remained rooted in place, Maynard grabbed Erwin’s rifle and took aim. “Fine. I’ll do it myself.”
Just before Maynard pulled the trigger, Erwin struck the barrel of the rifle with the heel of his hand, causing the shot to fly well off target.
“What in tarnation do you think you’re doing?” Maynard asked. “I had a bead on him.”
“My conscience wouldn’t allow you to shoot an unarmed man in the back.”
“Unarmed?” Maynard sputtered. “But he’s got my—”
Erwin bent and retrieved the pearl-handled pistol Solomon had tossed on the floor before he leaped from the train.
Maynard snatched the pistol from Erwin and tucked it into his belt.
“I ought to recommend you be brought up on charges of insubordination. I wouldn’t hesitate to do so if we didn’t need every man we have, even ones as pitiful as you.”
He poked his finger in Erwin’s chest.
“But make no mistake. When we get back to camp, you are taking the blame for this, Weekley, not me. Step aside.”
He touched the lump on his forehead to make sure it wasn’t bleeding, then marched down the aisle and stood over Lee.
“I knew you were fooling the whole time, old man. So stop your pretending and get on your feet. I told you to get up.”
He nudged Lee with the toe of his boot, but Lee didn�
�t move. That was when Wilhelmina realized the awful rattling in Lee’s lungs had stopped. She pressed her fingers against the side of his neck, but felt nothing but cooling flesh.
“This man’s dead,” she said, sitting back on her haunches.
“And the other one is as good as.” Maynard scraped a hand over his whiskers. “This might not turn out to be such a bad day after all.”
As she stared at the first dead body she had ever seen, Wilhelmina couldn’t imagine how a day could feel much worse. But with a major battle looming, she knew she was probably about to find out.
*
Clara churned butter on the porch while Abram and Percy played checkers beside her. There was still a great deal of work to be done around the house and on the farm, but she didn’t see anything wrong with letting them have a little fun for a while.
“King me,” Percy said proudly after he moved one of his pieces into the proper position on the board.
“How did you do that?”
Percy hooked his thumbs in the straps of his overalls. “You might be the second-best shot in the county, but I’m still better than you at checkers. Now king me.”
“Cheater.”
“Sore loser.”
Clara laughed as she listened to her brothers squabble. It had been so long since they had been able to act like children, she was glad to see they hadn’t forgotten how. Her laughter died in her throat when she saw a soldier coming out of the woods. Trying not to scream, she shoved the churn aside and waved Abram and Percy toward her.
“Come on, boys, get in the house.”
“What for?” Percy asked. “We haven’t finished our game yet.”
Clara watched the man move closer. His dark wool uniform hung off him, and he walked with a limp made more pronounced by the tree branches tied to his left leg as a makeshift splint. He wasn’t carrying a gun, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t armed. Or dangerous.
“Don’t argue with me, Percy. Just get in the house.”
Abram stood and followed her line of sight.
“That’s not a Yankee, Clara. He’s wearing a gray uniform, not a blue one. That makes him one of ours. And I think—” He squinted and took a step forward. “It is him. Solomon. Hey, Solomon!”
Divided Nation, United Hearts Page 8
