by Diane Wylie
It was time to leave. He would not be captured and sent to a prison camp. Did Jenny send them? No, they would have come right to the cabin. But would she betray him later, perhaps when he was well?
There was no choice. Taking a deep breath he headed for the cabin, pushing his body to move as quickly and quietly as possible. The agitated dog followed.
David dressed in his bloodstained uniform and boots. The stiff, dried patches didn’t even faze him now. Then he limped about trying to make the place look old and abandoned once more, dousing the coals and scattering the ashes. He hid the blankets and pillows under a pile of old rags in a corner. The remaining food he rolled up in one small blanket to take with him. Finally he slid the pistol and saber back into their rightful places at his side. By now Romulus was thoroughly upset, whining, and pacing in circles as he worked. He tried to soothe the dog by talking calmly to him, but it had little effect.
Dusk was falling, and the autumn air was crisp and cool by the time David eased open the cabin door. He listened intently. No sounds but the rustling of the leaves and the dog’s agitated panting reached his ears.
Miss Winston, if she came tonight, would not be here for hours yet. He knew she had to sneak out of the house when everyone else was asleep. If she brought those soldiers with her to take him prisoner, she would find him gone.
For a moment he was ashamed. She didn’t deserve his doubt. What a cad he would be to leave without so much as a thank you. A wave of dizziness hit, and he stumbled to the barn door. He would have to be a cad. There was no time to waste. The time to leave was now while he still had enough strength to get on his horse. He never even realized Romulus was gone.
* * *
Jenny was doing her best to remain calm and collected. Lack of sleep for three nights running had done little to help the situation.
Luther, one of the plantation’s big field hands, stood on the front porch twisting the hat he held in his hands and looking down at his feet while Jebediah scolded him like a child. Jebediah was Papa’s right-hand man. He had the responsibilities of an overseer, but because he was a slave, he didn’t have quite the same standing among the white people as the white overseers.
But Papa was a man who didn’t care much what other people thought. Jeb had the respect and cooperation of the other slaves on the plantation. They listened to him. He was smart and learned quickly. Over the years he had learned how to run the plantation inside and out. That was enough for Papa. When their last white overseer had left two years ago, Papa put Jeb in charge, and that was that.
“Where is yo’ sense, boy? Ain’t yo’ never been to town befo’? How come yo’ cain’t remember somethin’ so simple? All ya had to do was bring home the things that was on the list. Just had ta hand it to Mister Thomas and pay the man.”
Pain in his eyes, Luther looked to Jenny for help. “Miss Jenny, Mister Thomas, he keep sayin’ our money ain’t no good no mo’. We needs gold. Confederate money just ain’t no good. That’s why the wagon empty.”
Jenny’s mouth dropped open. “Did you tell my father about this, Jeb?”
“No, Ma’am. I just figured Luther were lying.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Something has happened. Please fetch Papa for me.” Jeb turned immediately to go into the house. Luther, his big head bowed and his hands still wringing the hat, stayed rooted to the spot looking for all the world like a big, miserable, cuddly bear.
She patted his arm. “Don’t worry, Luther; we’ll get this all straightened out.”
Of all the sounds that were common on a busy plantation—the hammering of a fence being repaired, an axe chopping wood, Cordelia’s voice loudly calling for Madeline, and Luther’s distressed muttering—one noise caught Jenny’s attention above the rest. A dog was barking, and it was not just any dog, it was Romulus. Shading her eyes against the glare of the sunny cold day, she scanned the edge of the woods lying north of the big house. A brown form broke free of the trees and streaked towards the house. Two of the other manor dogs ran to greet the big dog, but Rommie didn’t stop; he was heading straight for Jenny at top speed.
Her heart began to pound. Something had happened to Captain Reynolds! Rommie seemed genuinely fond of the damned Yankee. She was sure the dog would never leave him unless commanded to do so.
The soldier had been progressing as to be expected from the terrible injury and blood loss. He had been able to feed and wash himself but was still unable to walk. Cold fingers of fear gripped her. Perhaps Rebel soldiers or some drifter stumbled across the old cabin and discovered him.
The door behind Jenny swung open with a bang. The wide porch was suddenly filled with people all talking at once. Papa and Jebediah were grilling poor Luther for information, Madeline was asking her something, and Benjamin appeared to pull at her skirts for attention. Romulus bounded up the steps barking at them all. It was pure chaos!
Unable to stand it a moment longer, she clapped her hands over her ears and fled from the porch with Romulus on her heels and her cloak flapping in the breeze as she ran. Once inside the warm barn she sank down on a low stool to think. Rommie sat in front of her. He whined anxiously, cocking his head to one side and looking at her expectantly. She reached out and buried her face in the big dog’s furry neck.
“What can I do, Rommie? How can I go to him now? It is nearly suppertime. Papa will never allow me to leave.”
“Leave? Where are you going, Jenny?” It was Benjamin. The little boy had followed her on her flight from the babble and stood in the door to the barn, scuffing his toes in the dust. “Are you going to town with Luther?”
He skipped in and plopped down on the ground beside Romulus, hugging and stroking the big canine. The animal looked at Jenny, tilted his head to the side, and whined again.
“Where have you been, Rommie?” Ben asked, rubbing his cheek against the dog’s neck. “I haven’t seen you in a long time. Are you going away, Jenny? Can I come, too?” The boy looked up. He wore the most beguiling freckled-face look of innocence that she had ever seen.
“Papa says he saw Rebel soldiers crossing our land this morning,” he continued. He says the fools are on their way to die for a noble but losing cause. Then I heard him tell Luther that the damn Yankees made our money go bad and maybe those Rebel boys knew what they were doing after all. What is a Yankee? Does Papa like Rebel boys?”
Jenny’s heart skipped a beat, but she smoothed her dress and tried to stay calm. “Ben, since the war came, some people are afraid that Southern money will be no good anymore. If the North wins, they won’t want our script. They will want gold so people don’t want to use our paper money just in case. You see?”
“No. Can I go with you?”
“Where is that you think I am going, sweetie?”
“Rommie wants you to come with him.” The intuitive powers her brother displayed time and again never ceased to amaze her. The dog did seem to want Jenny to follow him. Romulus, in his agitation, had been repeatedly going to the door, looking at her then coming back to her and going to the door again.
“Well, Rommie will just have to wait while I go talk to Papa.”
* * *
David and Napoleon moved rapidly through the darkness, headed due north. It felt right to be in the saddle again. Just push away the pain and concentrate. It was best not to get lost.
His thoughts turned to the reunion with his unit. Would Colonel Kellogg believe his story when he returned? Perhaps Kellogg would not, and he would be court-martialed for desertion. No matter, he had to get back. He thought of Jack Montgomery, good ole Jack, his best friend of many years. David wondered if Jack was looking for him even now. How long had it been? Three days, four? He wasn’t sure.
Napoleon moved with sureness and power through the trees, splashing through a creek now. The days of rest had done the horse good. Jennifer crept into his mind as the miles passed. Memories of her pretty face, so full of tenderness when she touched his cheek crowded his head. He had reeked of
sweat, horse, and blood when she had found him, but she had come to his aid anyway—an enemy of her people. No simpering Southern belle that one. She had real courage and compassion. He would have enjoyed getting to know her better.
He slowed Napoleon to a walk to conserve the great animal’s strength then reached up and tore the bandage off his head, tossing it away. Should have done that sooner. It was like a beacon in the black night. Target practice, Rebs…this is the place to kill the Yankee. Stupid thing to leave it on so long. Forgot it was there.
They moved on, slipping silently through the black, moonless night, chewing up the miles. Soon they were moving through a dense wooded area, pitch black under the trees. He gave Napoleon his head to pick his way through. Suddenly the horse’s ears flicked forward, his whole body tensed, and he tossed his head. The animal had smelled something. A bear? David’s hand was on the pistol drawing it out in a flash.
Somewhere in the darkness a man laughed humorlessly. “That little gun won’t do you no good, Yankee.” There was a scornful emphasis on the last word. “My boys and I have you surrounded.”
Slowly he straightened, holding both hands up. Four gray-coated Rebels emerged from the trees on every side of him. Four rifles pointed at him.
“Drop it!” the same voice commanded.
He let the pistol fall to the hard ground. Damn it! He never even heard them coming.
One of the riders moved closer. The man was a Confederate soldier all right. They all were. Their butternut and gray uniforms had seen better days and were stained and torn but still recognizable. The leader was a Corporal with a full, dark beard obscuring most of his face and dark, stringy hair protruding from under his hat. David could see the sneer written on the man’s face, even in the darkness.
“Lookee here, boys. We got us a captain. A cavalry captain.” The barrel of the rifle poked at the bars on his uniform. “What are you doin’ out here so far from the rest of the army, Yank? And all alone, too. He’s got a right fine horse…or should I say, ‘had!’” The man guffawed. “I think this big black will be mine now.”
His comrades laughed. “See what else he’s got, Zeke. I could use me a new pair of boots,” one called out.
The corporal circled David. “How ‘bout a new saber, Chester?” He yanked it out of its holder and brandished it in the air. “Maybe I should find out how sharp it is first, fellas? Whaddaya say I use it on this here Yankee? Kill him with his own weapon?”
The other men laughed. “Do it, Zeke! See how sharp it is! Just don’t hurt them nice boots!”
“Hey, Zeke. I just thought of somethin’.”
Zeke laughed. “Careful, don’t strain yourself, Chester.”
“Funny. What if this guy is scoutin’? He might just know something ‘bout what them Yanks are up to. You know, military secrets and such.”
The corporal sat on his horse and eyed him, rubbing his bearded chin. David kept his face carefully blank as he stared straight ahead. He had to escape these men, but he was greatly outnumbered and outgunned. Wait for the right moment. Don’t be impatient.
“Might help us get back in good graces with the Colonel again at that. Might be we could be heroes. We got to break this one down a few pegs before we get anythin’ out of him. He looks mighty stubborn.” Zeke grinned. “Sounds like a fun time to me. Whaddaya say, boys?” With that he took the saber and brought the flat side down hard on the bloodstained bandage showing through the tear in David’s uniform trousers. At the same time, he reached across and pulled him from Napoleon’s back.
Then all hell broke loose.
Napoleon, objecting to the foul-smelling Rebel grabbing harshly at the reins, reared and plunged the moment David left the saddle. David hit the ground and rolled away from the flashing hooves, coming to his feet.
Suddenly one man was kneeling in the dirt holding his arm and moaning while another Reb struggled to get his own horse under control.
“That black demon broke my arm!”
David caught a flash of black and brown as Napoleon charged past him, his big teeth snapping and driving another horse ahead of him. Both horses disappeared into the darkness.
“Shit. Shit and double shit. He stole my horse!” The man on the ground cursed.
Zeke was in front of David. “You’re gonna pay for this, Yankee!” He spat in his face. David made a lunge for the man. Grabbing Zeke’s hand, which was holding his saber, he twisted around bringing the saber straight into the stomach of another, onrushing Rebel. The man screamed and fell back, a stunned expression on his face, his hands clutching the gory red of his belly. Zeke howled, dropped the saber, and lunged. But it was too late, David grabbed Zeke’s throat. The man’s eyes bulged, his face turning purple.
Die, you bastard Reb! Blinding rage banished everything from his mind. He could feel the man’s stringy neck muscles compress until he reached the ridges of his windpipe. Crush it! Hands were on his, trying to stop him, but he would not let go. Then David’s head exploded in a blinding flash of pain, and the world retreated into blackness.
* * *
It had taken Jennifer the entire evening to think up a convincing story and get her father to agree to let her go. Using every ounce of charm she had, she had gotten permission to visit with her friend, Patricia Harrington, who was expecting her first child. Papa was reluctant to let her go with soldiers roaming around the area, but as she pointed out, Patricia lived ten miles farther south, farther away from the Northern army. She would actually be safer there than they were at home, she argued.
Now she stood on the porch, dressed in her favorite dark blue riding habit, with food and supplies packed in the saddlebags her father thought contained only gowns and clothing for her stay with Patricia.
“I’ll be fine, Papa.” She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
He glowered. “I would feel much better, daughter, if you would keep Luther with you all the way there.”
“Now, Papa,” she sighed. “We have been through this. I have my gun with me, and you know how Luther hates to travel at night. He gets lost. You don’t want him wandering around lost and stumbling around in the dark when he might be shot for a runaway. I’ll make sure he heads back at first light tomorrow.”
He grumbled, “Sure do wish that nice young man, Jonathon Ashford, were here to escort you.”
“Well, Jonathon is not here. He’s off fighting. There are no young men around these parts for miles.”
“Maybe I should take you.”
Jenny sighed again. “You know that you can’t leave with all the soldiers around. Anything could happen to the plantation with you gone. I’ll be fine. It will only be a short ride from the inn to the Harrington’s house. No different from riding on our own land. Remember, Papa, I can shoot well. You taught me to hit the target every time.”
His normally stern face broke into a proud smile. He reached up and patted her shoulder affectionately. “Jennifer, I know you are a good shot. Better than me! Maybe the best I have seen. That does say a lot.”
“See, you don’t have to worry or you either, Ben.” She stooped down to talk to her little brother. He had been sniffling and rubbing his nose into her skirt. She pulled him into her arms and patted his shuddering back. “Don’t cry now. I will be back home before you know it.”
He raised a tear-stained face to hers. “But why can’t I go with you?”
“I told you, little one. Patricia is having her first baby, and I need to give her all of my time and help. It is not easy having a baby, you know. I can’t watch you, too.”
“But I don’t need to be watched. I am big now.”
She kissed his cheek and stood up, hoping he wouldn’t see the raw anxiety in her face. Benjamin was very receptive to her moods and feelings. With each passing moment her fears mounted. She knew something was wrong or Romulus would not have come home acting so strangely.
Had the Rebel soldiers found David? Was he being sent to a prison camp right now? Was he even alive?
She had gone out to the cabin last night to find it empty. There was no sign of Captain Reynolds or his horse. Rommie had wanted to follow their trail immediately, but Jenny knew she needed more time and food and bandages. She had to find the Yankee. He had been unable to walk when she last saw him; the wound had been deep and the injury to the muscle severe. It had only been a few days since she found him in such a bad way. She had to help him.
But it was more than that. She had to see him again, be near him, to see his beautiful green eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiled, to feel the touch of his hand, to talk to him again. Just thinking of him made her insides go all warm and tingly. Something about that man just pulled her to him like a moth to a candle flame. Well, she might get burned, but she had to know.
How could he leave without a word? Somehow she knew he had been forced to leave suddenly, that he would have told her goodbye otherwise. She had to know he was safe.
“Jenny?” Her father was looking at her strangely.
“Sorry. I was just thinking about Patricia. Benjamin, you be good for Papa now. I’m ready to go. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Deliberately relaxing her body to appear as calm and normal as possible, she made her way down the steps. Luther helped her mount Star then he climbed on his own horse. They set off down the lane. The big black man bounced stiffly in the saddle, his legs dangling almost to the ground. He looked miserable as he followed Jenny with Romulus trailing along, the dog’s brown feathery tail waving gently like a flag.
Chapter Eight
Brushing her hair back from her face, Jenny took a long drink of water from her canteen and poured some in a tin cup. She held it out for Romulus to drink. The dog dropped down beside her, panting heavily and dripping water from his long pink tongue. He was grinning at her; she was sure of it.
“We’re going to find him. Right, sweetie?”
She gave him a pat on the head. They had finally been able to send Luther home then turn around and head north, giving the road back to the plantation a wide berth so as not to encounter the servant on his way back.
