Divided Nation, United Hearts

by Yolanda Wallace

  Clara took a gamble she hoped wouldn’t end up costing her everything.

  “Come with me. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Wilhelmina hid behind a hay bale after she peeked through the spaces in the barn wall and saw Clara and Abram approach the barn with a woman and a girl who appeared to be the woman’s daughter in tow. When she heard the barn door creak open, she held her breath and tried not to move. Even the slightest rustle could give away her position.

  The door slammed shut. Wilhelmina waited for Clara to start telling the women what she needed them to do on the farm or around the house. Instead, Clara called her name.

  “Wil?” Clara’s voice was tentative. Uncertain.

  Wilhelmina didn’t answer. Clara had said she didn’t think she could trust Enid Bragg with the knowledge she was hiding a Union soldier. Had Clara changed her mind, or was she giving her up in order to save herself and her family?

  “Come on down, Wil,” Clara said. “It’s okay.”

  Wilhelmina closed her eyes and resigned herself to her fate, whatever it might turn out to be. She stood and approached the ladder. When her face came into view, Mrs. Bragg gasped as if she had seen a ghost. Wilhelmina climbed down the ladder, not knowing what to expect when she reached the ground.

  Clara provided the introductions.

  “Enid and Mary Bragg, I’d like to present Wil Fredericks. Wil’s part of the Union outfit camped out on Pittsburg Landing.”

  “Pleased to meet you both.” Wil extended her hand, but both Mrs. Bragg and Mary backed away from the offering.

  “Jedediah was right all along,” Mrs. Bragg said sharply. “You are giving aid to the enemy. I defended you, Clara. How could you look me in the face and lie to me after everything our families have been through?”

  Clara’s eyes misted over, but she didn’t back down.

  “Wil didn’t come to us until two nights ago. I hadn’t met him when Jedediah made those accusations about me.”

  “Mr. Wil’s the one who kept that other Yankee from robbing our smokehouse,” Abram said. “He was good to us, so we had to be good to him.”

  Despite Abram’s appeal, Mrs. Bragg didn’t soften her stance.

  “I’ll be eternally grateful to him for standing up for you the way he did, and I’m sure you feel beholden to him as well, but that should be the end of it. What’s he doing here? Shouldn’t he be with his unit? Or is he a deserter, too?”

  “Mr. Wil’s itching to get back to the war,” Abram said. “He just doesn’t have it in him yet.”

  Mrs. Bragg looked Wilhelmina up and down.

  “What’s stopping him? He looks pretty healthy to me.”

  “Looks can be deceiving,” Clara said. “Wil was one of the soldiers who were in charge of escorting Papa and Solomon to the prison camp. He was there when Papa died and Solomon escaped. Solomon blames Wil and the other men for Papa’s death. He tried to seek revenge last night by shooting Wil and leaving him for dead. Abram and Percy found Wil in the woods. I didn’t know what else to do so I brought him here and patched him up.”

  “Why did you go and do a fool thing like that?” Mrs. Bragg put her hands on her hips and defiantly jutted out her chin. “You should have left him where you found him is what you should have done.”

  “I couldn’t do that. Anyone could have come across him. Or perhaps no one would. He could have died out there all alone. Wouldn’t you have done the same thing if you were in my position?”

  “I most certainly would not. I would have stuck with my own kind, not switch sides. The Federals killed your papa, made a fugitive out of your brother, blinded my Moses, and Lord knows what they might have done to my Joseph since he hasn’t written in going on two months now. Why are you protecting the likes of him?”

  Clara looked lost. Wilhelmina wanted to help her, but she didn’t know how. Enid and Mary Bragg were like family to Clara. She, on the other hand, was still a relative stranger.

  “Because I love him.”

  Wilhelmina thought she must have misunderstood what Clara had said, but the look in Clara’s eyes told her she had heard right.

  “You love him?” Mrs. Bragg asked incredulously. “Child, you don’t even know him. Where is he from? Who are his people? Has he told you anything about himself except his name? He probably has a wife and a passel of children waiting for him at home while he’s down here playing you for a fool. Think about what you’re doing, Clara.”

  “I have thought about it,” Clara said resolutely. “And I’m standing with Wil.”

  “Me, too.”

  Clara left Mrs. Bragg’s side and came to stand next to Wilhelmina’s. So did Abram. Wilhelmina felt a lump form in her throat. She wondered what she had done to inspire such loyalty, but she was reluctant to question her good fortune for fear that it might come to an abrupt end.

  “Wil is one man, not a whole army,” Clara said. “I’m helping him, not the Union.”

  “That’s how it starts.” Mrs. Bragg grunted her displeasure. “What would your poor mama say if she could see you now?”

  “I hope she would say she’s proud of me for following my heart and doing what I feel is right instead of what folks expect.” Clara’s eyes flashed fire, but when she spoke again, her voice was cordial. “I hope you will, too.”

  Mrs. Bragg was quiet for a moment, something Wilhelmina thought was probably a rare occurrence.

  “Of course I’m proud of you, child. I’ve always admired a woman who sticks up for herself, and you’re definitely doing that now. But this? This is a bit much to take.”

  She took a step forward, gave Wilhelmina an appraising look, and pinched her arm.

  “He’s handsome, I’ll give you that, but he’s much too skinny for my taste. He’s all bones, knees, and elbows. He’d never be able to keep me warm at night. He’s got good manners, though. Someone must have raised him right. What do you think, Mary?”

  “I reckon he’ll do.”

  Mary blushed and looked at Abram as if gauging his reaction to what she had said. Wilhelmina didn’t see jealousy on Abram’s face. She saw sheer joy instead.

  “That settles it then.” Mrs. Bragg nodded as if she had come to a decision about something, then waved her hand dismissively. “Get back up there before someone sees you, boy. I can’t say I approve of you being here, but if you get caught, it won’t be on my account.”

  “Do you mean it?” Clara asked.

  “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Wilhelmina said.

  “Don’t thank me,” Mrs. Bragg said. “I’m only doing this because Clara vouched for you. If she hadn’t, I would have turned you over to the Hardin County Reserves without thinking twice. I still might if you do something that brings harm to anyone on this homestead. And if you break Clara’s heart, I’ll damn sure make you wish you hadn’t.”

  “I would never dream of raising the ire of a woman as formidable as you, ma’am.”

  A corner of Mrs. Bragg’s mouth quirked into a smile that she quickly suppressed.

  “See that you don’t. Come on, you lot. Let’s get to work. Those fields won’t tend themselves.”

  Clara lingered after Abram, Mary, and Mrs. Bragg left.

  “Stay here until it gets dark. I’ll come fetch you when it’s safe.”

  “It’s safer if I stay out here. For me and for you.”

  “Safer how?”

  Wilhelmina pointed to the hayloft.

  “I have a better vantage point up there. I can see who’s coming long before they arrive. And if someone does manage to sneak up on me, you would be able to say you didn’t know I was here, which you couldn’t do if they found me in your bed. It’s for the best if I keep myself apart from you, and you know it.”

  “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

  “Neither do I, but the next time I’m in your bed, I want you to be there with me.”

  “I want that, too
,” Clara said shyly.

  Wilhelmina felt like her body was on fire. Being so close to Clara made the flames jump higher. Burn brighter. She wanted to kiss her. She wanted to touch her. More than anything else, though, she wanted to keep her safe.

  “Did you mean what you said to Mrs. Bragg? Do you really love me?”

  “Yes, Wil, I do.”

  Wil wanted to believe her, but she didn’t dare. She had dreamed of finding love before, only to be denied. She didn’t want to feel that pain again. She didn’t know if she would be able to withstand it this time.

  She had known Libby all her life. She had been acquainted with Clara for only two days. Yet the feelings Clara stirred in her were deeper than any she had ever experienced.

  She didn’t want to leave Clara, but how could she stay? How could she consider planning a future with her when the present was so uncertain?

  “But Mrs. Bragg’s right, Clara. You don’t even know me.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve known you from the minute I laid eyes on you. I knew right from the start that you were the one. Didn’t you feel it, too?”

  “Yes,” Wil said, “but I didn’t want to get my hopes up again only to have them dashed.”

  “I’m not Libby.”

  “No, Clara Summers, you most certainly are not.”

  Wilhelmina drew Clara into her arms. If she had her way, she would never let go, but she suspected there were many more battles to be fought before their war could come to an end.

  *

  Clara struck a match and held the burning end to the wick of a kerosene lantern. After the lantern’s flame began to glow, she tossed the spent match into the belly of the stove and adjusted the brightness.

  “Boys, say your prayers and get ready for bed while I take this bowl of chicken and dumplings out to Wil.”

  “Why is he sleeping in the barn tonight?” Percy asked. “Doesn’t he want to come back in the house?”

  Abram pushed his chair away from the table.

  “I told you, Percy. It’s better this way. If someone tries to sneak up on us again, Mr. Wil will be able to pick them off before they get too close. And if he has to run, it’ll be easier for him to get away. He can shimmy down the ladder and disappear into the woods in ten seconds flat.”

  “But I can’t talk to him if he’s out there and I’m in here,” Percy said with a pout.

  “I can pass a message to him if you like,” Clara said. “What do you want me to tell him?”

  Percy screwed up his face as he pondered the question.

  “I know,” he said, brightening. “Tell him not to fall out of the hayloft in his sleep and break his fool neck.”

  “I’ll be sure to tell him. Now get to bed, both of you. I’ll be back in a little while to tuck you in.”

  “If Solomon says we’re getting too big to cry, aren’t we getting too big for you to tuck us in at night?” Abram asked.

  Clara disagreed with Solomon’s critique of her “soft” treatment of Abram and Percy, but she didn’t want to prejudice Abram’s opinion one way or the other.

  “Since Solomon isn’t here, how do you feel about the matter?”

  He thought for a minute.

  “I guess I don’t mind it none.”

  “Good.” Clara was sure he would change his tune in another year or so, but she’d worry about that when the time came. “Look after your brother, and lock this door behind me. I’ll knock when I’m ready to come back in.”

  “All right. Tell Mr. Wil good night for us.”

  Clara stood on the porch and waited to hear Abram slide the barrier into place before she continued on her way. Her hand trembled slightly as she held the lantern in front of her. She never used to be afraid to walk around the farm in the dark, but that had changed the night she found a strange man standing in the smokehouse. Now every sound she heard gave her pause, whether it was the rustling of the leaves in the wind, the croaking of a bullfrog on a stump, or the roar of the river as the water made its way downstream. Before, they had been nothing more than the sounds of the night. Now they could be harbingers of danger.

  The noises were bad enough. The shadows were even worse. Was that figure she spotted out of the corner of her eye a tree or a soldier with a gun? She wanted to go back to feeling safe again, but she didn’t know if she ever would.

  She picked up her pace. Hot broth from the chicken and dumplings sloshed over the side of the bowl and burned her hand. She didn’t mind the pain because it meant she was still alive. So many other poor, unfortunate souls couldn’t say the same.

  She wondered how many of the soldiers she had tended to at Treetop Farms were still clinging to life and how many had perished from their wounds. Were they still sprawled on their pallets in and around the Ogletrees’ house, or had Union troops sent them to prison after the Rebs conceded defeat in the recent battle?

  Clara wanted to see for herself, but she didn’t dare go back. If the Yankees had stolen Thomas Ogletree’s property, she didn’t want to give them any ideas about taking hers, too.

  She set the lantern down long enough to open the barn door. The ensuing squeak reminded her to find some oil for the hinges. Another thing to worry about later. First things first.

  “Wil? I brought your dinner. I have a message from Percy, too. Which would you like first?”

  “A kiss from you.”

  Wil’s voice in her ear startled Clara so badly she nearly dropped both her burdens. The spilled chicken and dumplings would have been a nuisance. The dropped lamp, however, could have proven disastrous if the glass had broken and the burning wick had set the dry hay aflame. The barn would have gone up in minutes.

  “You nearly scared me half to death, Wil. What are you doing down here in the dark?”

  Wil grinned in the soft glow of the lamplight.

  “I didn’t mean to frighten you. Jack can see a lot better than I can. I was trying to alleviate my boredom by teaching him to play fetch.”

  “But he’s a cat, not a dog.”

  “I think someone forgot to tell him that.”

  Wil tossed a roll of twine. Jack ran after it, picked it up with his teeth, then brought it back, and dropped it at Wil’s feet.

  Clara set the bowl of chicken and dumplings on a hay bale.

  “Well, I never. I always said Jack was different. I just didn’t know how much.”

  Wil tossed the twine again and Jack trotted off to retrieve it.

  “I suppose that’s why he and I get along so well. Is that why you’re drawn to me, too? Because I’m different?”

  “No, because you’re you.”

  Wil sat on the hay bale and began shoveling food from the bowl so fast most of the broth ended up on her face instead of in her mouth.

  “Slow down,” Clara said with a laugh. “You’re making a mess, and I forgot to bring a napkin.”

  She wiped the corner of Wil’s mouth with her thumb and moved to dry it on her dress, but Wil grabbed her wrist before she could. Slowly, ever so slowly, Wil drew her hand forward. Clara watched almost in disbelief as Wil took her thumb in her mouth and began to lick it clean.

  Wil’s eyes never left hers. Clara felt lost in her gaze. Lost in the wonderful sensations Wil’s tongue was producing as it slid against her skin.

  “Wil.”

  Her voice sounded like it belonged to someone else. A stranger. There was no doubt about who had ownership of her body, though. Her body belonged to Wil Fredericks.

  What was the word Wil had used to describe how she made her feel? Wanton. Yes, that was it. The word had scandalized her at the time, but now it seemed all too apt. As Wil took her thumb deeper into her mouth, Clara felt shameless in every sense of the word.

  She pulled her hand away and reached for the lantern.

  “Did I do something wrong?” Wil asked. “Did I move too fast?”

  Clara shined the light in Wil’s eyes, which radiated desire as well as concern.

  “If you don’t finish what
you started, I will never speak to you again.”

  Wil grinned again, then took her hand and led her to the hayloft.

  “We can’t have that, now can we?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Moonlight streamed into the hayloft through the cracks in the boards. Wilhelmina wanted to be able to see every inch of Clara when she undressed, but she didn’t want her to feel like she was on display. She lowered the flame on the lantern to compensate.

  “Have you ever done anything like this before?” Clara asked.

  “No, never.”

  The men in camp talked about sexual relations endlessly while they sat around the fire, but Wilhelmina didn’t know which parts of their conversations were true and which were made up.

  “I don’t know what to do,” Clara said with an embarrassed giggle.

  “Neither do I,” Wilhelmina admitted with a laugh of her own.

  The men had assumed—correctly—that she was a virgin, and often teased her about her lack of experience with women. She hadn’t minded the teasing, but she regretted not paying closer attention to their idle chatter.

  She swallowed hard, then took a step forward, and closed the distance between her and Clara.

  “Maybe we can figure it out together.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Wilhelmina cradled Clara’s face in her hands and kissed her. Gently. As if it was the first time. Because tonight would be the first time for many things. For both of them.

  Clara melted against her. Melted into her. Wilhelmina felt the heat build as their bodies touched up and down. They fit so perfectly together. Like they were made for each other. Like they were meant to be.

  The kiss continued. Deepened. As their tongues danced a brisk waltz, Wilhelmina wrapped her arms around Clara’s waist and pulled her closer. She needed to feel her. Needed to taste her skin.

  She kissed the side of Clara’s neck. Felt Clara’s pulse pounding against her lips. She untied Clara’s apron and tossed it aside. Then she unbuttoned Clara’s dress, pushed it off her shoulders, and let it fall to the floor. Clara stood before her wearing nothing but her chemise and pantaloons. Wilhelmina lost her breath just looking at her.