Sunday, June 21
“Always mystify, mislead, and surprise the enemy.”
The maxim of Stonewall Jackson flitted through her head as Naylor ran from the farmhouse. She barely registered that she was barefoot and in her nightgown.
“Thomas!” she shrieked. “Stop!”
The surrey did not stop. She didn’t either, although behind her Aaron shouted her name.
A trail of dust obscured the surrey. Early morning sunlight turned the dust into a golden cloud.
She screamed with all her might. “Thomas! You have to stop! Please stop!”
Thomas, no longer half deaf, had to hear. So did Susannah and her daughter. But the surrey kept rolling on the lane through the elms.
Naylor continued to run despite burning lungs. She had to catch them. But she wouldn’t. She slowed, and despaired.
“Amanda, out of the way!”
Behind her thundered hooves. She turned to see Aaron on one of the big wagon horses. He rode bareback. He quickly passed her, generating his own cloud of dust.
Naylor staggered forward as she gasped for breath. She at last became aware of pain from her feet. She lifted a sole to see blood.
She wanted to cry. What was Thomas thinking? This was madness.
A hundred yards down the lane Aaron had caught up with the surrey. She saw him bend to seize the harness. Aaron soon brought the surrey to a halt.
Naylor gave the most relieved thanks of her life.
What a feat of riding by Aaron, to maneuver that bulky horse into position. Without saddle or stirrups. It took nerve, too, to lean to grab the harness. A slip and he would have been under the surrey wheels.
Damn Thomas, she would have his hide. And Susannah’s.
Damn herself, too. She should have seen this coming. Nothing ruled Thomas more strongly than his call to God.
Naylor forgot her stinging feet as she hurried toward the surrey. The shrill voice of Susannah vied with the deeply authoritative one of Thomas as they commanded Aaron let them proceed. Aaron, always the equanimous one, answered with a stone face.
What a tableau this made, Naylor thought, as she neared the surrey. Three people in their Sunday best, two in their bedclothes, all in a dusty country lane.
Thankfully this lane was surrounded by a myriad of fruit trees. The welter of trunks and branches and leaves completely hid them from the world. The trees, and the birds trilling in them, would also blot out sound. No matter how heated this confrontation got, even screamed words would not escape.
Naylor summoned her chief executive’s voice.
“Out of the surrey. Everyone. Now!”
Thomas was the first to climb down. He looked none too happy, but he would obey his guardian angel. Peggy started to follow. Susannah grabbed her daughter’s arm and glowered at Naylor.
Sue looked ready to wield the buggy whip on Naylor instead of the skittish horse. “We’re going to church! What right have you to try to stop us?”
Naylor remembered a complacent thought earlier in the month: There were conspiracies, and there were conspiracies. Sweet Sue had certainly one-upped her on that.
The conniving bitch would have succeeded but for the snap of a twig. It resounded like a pistol shot and woke Naylor just in time. A wheel must have crunched the twig as they tried to ease the surrey from the carriage house. The best laid plans of mice and men…
Good God, it was barely past dawn. How early had the three gotten up? They had exercised great care in rousing, dressing and exiting, as boards on both the second floor and the stairway creaked sharply. Their stealth bore the trademark planning and execution of one Stonewall Jackson.
Damn Thomas! Of course Susannah had encouraged him, but he was the one to say yes or no. How could he do this? He knew the tremendous stakes involved.
Naylor tried to keep wrath from her voice. “Billy, please go back to the house. You know this isn’t a good idea.”
Thomas looked at Peggy. “But Jesus said, ‘Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God.’”
Thomas quoted the Bible verse with authority. His gray-blue eyes blazed as must have Moses’ when bringing the Commandments down from Mount Sinai.
He stood before her dressed in Sunday finest. Frock coat, vest, pants, shoes, white shirt, and silk tie. Eli’s finest, that was. Naylor had to admit they fit pretty well. A gold plated watch hung by a chain from the vest.
“We’re going to church,” Susannah said. “This is my house, my land! You can’t and you won’t stop us.”
“You go right ahead, Sue. Billy stays here.”
Oh, the conniving bitch. Susannah had not been to church in months. She stopped going after her father-in-law died; she blamed God for both his loss and that of her husband. And for letting the war occur, with all its attendant horror.
Repeated visits by her pastor did not return Sue to the fold. Nor did entreaties by neighbors and church members. Her mind would not be changed by anyone, ever. She had arrived at the same conclusion as Naylor about the compassion of the Creator.
But Thomas, of course, had been disturbed when he learned of her abandonment of God. He was even more distressed that her child was being kept from the Heavenly Father. Concern continually clouded his high, broad forehead.
Before Susannah began to fall for him, she had politely turned away discussion of the topic. Naylor had also commanded that Thomas lay off. Sue will come back to God on her own. Just give her time. And we have bigger fish to fry.
Even before Susannah fell in love, she tolerated Billy reading from the Bible to her daughter. Afterward she began to join in. Soon all three were reciting psalms together. Last Sunday they had knelt on the parlor carpet to pray and sing hymns.
Naylor, in her foolishness, had watched all this half amused. It was plain to everyone at the household—except Thomas—that Susannah was trying hard to wend her way into Billy’s heart. Sue had brains, but it did not take a genius to tell that religion was Billy’s Achilles’ heel.
Wednesday Thomas had come to Naylor and asked if he could accompany Sue and Peggy if they went to church services. He had calmly taken Naylor’s kindly refusal; along with her sympathy he seemed to accept the argument it was way too dangerous.
“Billy is a grown man,” said Susannah. “He can decide for himself.”
The eyes of Thomas implored. “I promised I would go. It will be all right. I will be careful.”
Goddammit, Thomas, watch your mouth.
“Billy, a word.” She gestured down the lane. Naylor noticed that Aaron was still holding the harness. Why? With Thomas out of the surrey, Sue was free to go. In fact, it might be better if she did.
Naylor moved Thomas out of earshot of the surrey.
“You know you cannot go to church. We can’t take the chance.”
“There is little risk. The country believes I am dead.”
“You were—are—world famous. Your likeness has been in newspapers North and South.” Papers could not yet carry photographs, but they did display accurate drawings of individuals. “I know you had a photograph taken ten years ago, in which you did not have a beard.” That was a portrait taken by Mathew Brady.
“I wore sideburns then. They were long, almost to my mouth.”
“And what about your arm? Maybe people will skip over your face, but not the missing arm.”
“Many men have lost arms in this war.”
“Your voice too, Thomas. You speak as a Virginian.”
“I will speak little.”
“You cannot remain mute. After the service, people will approach you and Susannah. With many ‘polite’ questions.”
Susannah Cooper appearing in church after a four month’s absence would cause quite a stir. That an unknown man accompanied her, when she was still in her mourning period, would cause more. Every eye would scan Thomas from head to toe. Curiosity would rage.
“You—”
Peggy’s tearful voice interrupted. “Uncle Billy, you promised!”
Naylor turned to see Peggy leaning from the surrey. The child’s face twisted in sorrow. How much was an act, how much real, Naylor did not know. What Naylor did know was that her mother had instigated the appeal.
“Thomas,” said Naylor, “You go back to the house. I command it. Do you doubt I have the authority to command you?”
The great general tried to remain defiant. But he could not when confronted by an agent of the Almightly. Thankfully Naylor would always have that as the ultimate prod.
“Go, Thomas. You can worship with them once more in the parlor. It is perfectly all right in His eyes.”
He nodded. Thomas made to call to Susannah, but Naylor stopped him. “I need to talk to Sue, too. They will be along.”
He reluctantly started toward the gray stone farmhouse. For the first time in days the sun shone brightly on it. A good omen, she hoped.
Peggy flounced out of the surrey. Susannah followed her. They advanced on Naylor. Sorrowful Peggy and furious Sue.
“Peggy, you go ahead. Billy will read to you. I need a word with your mother.”
At Sue’s grim nod the child flew off after Thomas.
Naylor and Susannah stood a foot apart.
Sue wore a shimmering lavender dress. It was probably made of taffeta. In the dress—no matter that lavender was a mourning color—the young, trim woman with the hair of butter and skin of cream looked very fetching. Question was, did Thomas even notice her appearance?
Naylor’s anger softened. Susannah, who loved Thomas—probably desperately so—had zero chance of winning him. Anything she tried would fail. Sue would suffer the agonies of the damned when Thomas left; Naylor remembered her own when Henry cast her away.
Susannah’s anger had not lessened. “How dare you stop us.”
“Just him. Not you.”
“How can you keep him from what he so loves?”
“I have told you about his nerves, Sue. He cannot withstand being in a crowd. The last time he was, on the train, he began screaming. Do you want that to happen in your church?”
“I have seen no excitability in him. Since the day he got here.”
“Because he feels safe here. You are luring him onto dangerous ground.”
“I am not luring anyone. And he has to go back into the world sometime. What better place than God’s house?”
“You are as far from God as ever, Susannah. We both know that. You are luring Thomas to church in hopes that will lure him to yourself.”
Naylor immediately regretted her words. Tact, Allison, Tact.
“You’re horrid.” Sue’s eyes spit hate. Lifting her dress above her heels, she swept toward the house.
Naylor bit her lip. What if in her anger—her rage—Susannah ordered them off the farm? She might. Throw the gold at Naylor, say she wanted them out by nightfall.
No, no, she wouldn’t. Sue had to believe she still had a chance with Thomas. As long as that possibility existed…
Naylor wondered if she could get Thomas to lead her on a little. He would only have to for four more days. Thomas’ sense of honor would likely cause him to balk, but if the angel commanded…
“Amanda.”
Aaron, still by the surrey, had called her. The harnessed mare he held shifted impatiently on her hooves. The big horse Aaron had ridden to chase down the surrey obliviously chewed grass between a row of apple trees.
“Yes, Aaron?”
“We have a problem.”
“I know we do. But she’ll cool.”
“It’s not that. When you were running after them you twice shouted ‘Thomas’. She couldn’t have missed it.”
God, she had. Aaron must think her an idiot.
“Uh—we’ll do like we did you with at the Chandler cottage. Say Thomas is his middle name.”
“Don’t think that will fly, Allison.”
“Of course it will. She hasn’t the remotest reason to suspect he’s Stonewall Jackson.”
“When she calms, she may start to put two and two together. She knows like everyone else that Thomas Jackson lost an arm at Chancellorsville. He is also the right age and speaks with a Southern accent.”
“Everyone thinks he’s dead. It would be an incredible stretch for her to make the connection.”
“That’s what you want to believe. You once told me that that believing in what you wanted to believe was the worst of mistakes.”
“Aaron—”
“We simply can’t take the chance she will connect.”
“What the hell do you propose then?”
His lips compressed. Then he spoke. “We lock them in the root cellar. Now.”
“Good God. You’re serious?”
“Absolutely.”
She began to pace. She ignored her sore feet. “We can’t. You’re overreacting.”
“Have you ever seen me overreact?”
Aaron stood so calmly beside the fidgety mare. He had remained just as unruffled during the events of the past thirty minutes. Which meant he had to be thinking a lot more clearly than she.
“Just leave them in the cellar, Aaron?”
“There’s plenty of food in there. And all the cider they can handle. We’ll of course give them a good supply of water too.”
Of course, thought Naylor.
“What about air?” The earthen cellar was built like a bunker and had no windows. The double doors at the entrance were made of thick oak. The interior was spacious, but a week in there certainly would exhaust all the oxygen.
“I’ll auger some holes in the doors.”
“They can’t stay there forever. And we can’t guarantee we’d be able to get back after the battle.” They had shrunk another inch. The pace could only accelerate from now on.
“We’ll post a letter June 29 or 30 to the Abbottstown authorities. Telling them about Sue in the cellar. The letter won’t reach them for at least a couple days.”
“What if it never arrives?”
“Sue and Peggy go to the market every Thursday. Like clockwork. If they don’t show a couple weeks in a row, people will come.”
“You can guarantee that?”
“It’s your call, Allison. But we should secure them shortly. If Sue adds it up, she can just bolt into the trees. She knows this land. All she has to do is make it to another farm. If she is believed, we’d never get past Hampton on our way out.”
If she was believed. Susannah would sound like a madwoman claiming Stonewall Jackson was alive. But someone would get curious enough to come take a look.
“Thomas will fight us on this,” she said.
“No, he won’t. He’s got a war to win. He’ll agree to the necessity.”
Maybe. It would be a real test of his obedience to her.
Naylor caught sight of Susannah eyeing them from a second floor window. Anger still played on her face, but it was a cold anger now. Had she started ruminating already?
“All right. Let’s lock them up.”
“Okay. After we put the surrey back, I’ll saunter into the house, then grab her. You keep an eye on Peggy. When I take Susannah, you get Peggy.”
She nodded. Then she sighed. “I really stepped in it, didn’t I?”
Aaron softly touched her shoulder. He smiled. “It’s under control.”
“I love you, Aaron.”
“And I you.” Then he led the mare about, back towards the carriage house.
As she walked beside him, it struck her. Confining the two to the cellar was only a partial solution. As Aaron had said, people in Abbottstown would notice when Susannah and Peggy failed to appear Thursday. Someone could be concerned enough to ride out here that day.
The devil would then be loose.
She stopped in her tracks. Good God, what was she thinking? No, no, no!
“What’s the matt
er?” Aaron asked.
“It’s just—I hope no harm comes to them.” She started walking again.
“Don’t worry. They’ll be uncomfortable, but they’ll be fine.”
“I hope so.” What a liar.
She would not kill these people!
Yes, that would neatly solve the problem. The dead said nothing. Kill the mother and child, bury the bodies in the woods. Anyone one who came looking would find an empty farmhouse and a mystery not likely solved for months.
She would not kill them!
Sanctioning the death of a combatant like Jack Mauer was one thing, horrible enough. To do away with an innocent woman and a more innocent child should and would damn her to the hell she avowed did not exist. It would be the supreme crime.
But if they lived and told, a hundred million or more would die horrible, horrible deaths. And the soul of a great civilization would be fatally wounded.
What would Aaron think of her thoughts? What would Thomas? Thomas could never, ever, no matter the cost, kill a child. He would abandon their cause instantly if she did.
Perhaps he need never know. Nor Aaron. The night before they left, she could reach the cellar undetected. Aaron was a deep sleeper, Thomas the world champion. Courtesy of Aaron she had a pepper-box pistol. It held six shots.
She could quietly unlock the cellar padlock. She would have to bring a candle. She would light it just before stepping inside; once inside she would close the doors. The shots would not be heard outside. She—
“Amanda.”
Naylor had again stopped dead in the lane. The surrey had almost run into her. Aaron was gravely regarding her.
He came close. “You’re white as a ghost.”
She imagined she was. She stared at her hands as if blood dripped from them.
Day Nine Page 17
