by Caryl McAdoo
It proved to be a smart move, putting Mister Bellows in charge of the bunch. The man knew most of the folks in town. Maybe that’s why the brass chose him to station there on its outside borders.
Of course, Gigi didn’t mention the bandits. She did, however, inform her mother about the Rebel Army and what their orders were, mostly in an effort to put Mama, Aunt Peggy, and herself at more ease.
She kept her concerns to herself, denying them voice. No reason to share those.
It sure seemed to her that if General Hindman couldn’t stop the Yanks from crossing the Green River with three times as many men as the Federals . . .
What would keep the Yankees out of town?
And what would they do if they got there?
Kentucky was a neutral state. Its men fought on both sides. Papa, Christopher, and Uncle Charles joined up with the Union, and her beloved Texas Ranger signed on with the Rebs.
If they met in battle, how could Christopher or Papa know not to shoot Ephraim and vice versa. The topic proved one she couldn’t allow herself to think on.
After a late dinner, her mother fired her first shot right at the heart of Gigi’s wedding plans, breaking the pleasant silence that had fallen over the room as each read quietly.
“I was talking with some of the ladies about your unreasonable plans. The more sensible consensus is that the Federals will not even consider coming here . . . until summer at the earliest, maybe later. There’s no need to rush things, Gardenia.”
“Oh, Mama.” Gigi looked over her book. “That may be true, but only the Yanks know for sure. They could be here tomorrow, too.”
“True. I suppose you’d have to wait then. Ephraim couldn’t chance coming into town, he’d be shot. But consider this . . . if we wait until spring, we can have such a fine wedding with lovely flowers everywhere. It would be so beautiful. However, if you hold to this ridiculous notion of a New Year Eve’s wedding . . . Well, there’s not any flowers to speak of, and—”
“Do you think flowers make any difference to me?”
“Was I through talking? Don’t interrupt me, Gardenia Gladiola.”
“Don’t call me that! Why are you so obsessed with flowers, Mama? Who names their baby girl Gardenia—much less adding Gladiola! Or Marigold Verbena, for gracious sakes?”
“They are unique and beautiful names. Who wants to come to a wedding with no flowers? Especially yours! Why, I can’t imagine my daughter’s wedding without fields of flowers covering everything!”
“Mother!”
“Besides, people have plans and parties to attend on New Year’s Eve! We’ve already received two invitations, though I’ll not go partying without your father.”
“If they choose to go to a party instead of my wedding, then so be it. I don’t care.”
“Be sensible, Gigi. You need to reconsider marrying that man so soon. Until you’re certain. You don’t even know him.”
“But I do, Mother, and I am certain, as certain as I am that the sun will rise tomorrow morning. If you’d only bother to get to know him, you’d love him as much as I do. I don’t know what your problem is! Why can’t you understand?”
“I’m trying. I am, but there’s just no need for such a rush.”
“But there is, we’ve already explained that. There’s a war going on!” She set her book on the table and stood. “Gramps has given his permission—his word—and unless Papa comes home and overrules him, I will marry Ephraim on the thirty-first.”
“You’re being so hardheaded, Gardenia Gladiola Garland! You must listen to reason.” She scooted to the edge of her chair. “I’ve thought it over, darling, and it’s just too soon.” She faced Gramps.
“You should never have given the man your permission. Do you see what you’ve done? Gone and got her hopes all built up for nothing.”
“You’re entitled to your opinion, Margaret, but you know I’m a man of my word. And that’s that. If Gigi and Ephraim still want to marry, then come New Year’s Eve, I’m walking her down the aisle.”
“What if we can’t get the church? Has anyone even checked to see if it’s available?”
“Well, I’m certain you haven’t! And no, Mother. I’ve been busy carrying on our family business, bringing in some money. Remember?”
“Daisy?” She turned toward the kitchen. “Daisy! Are you still up?”
Footfalls preceded the slave’s silhouette haloed in the parlor’s double doorway. “Yes, ma’am. Is there something you need, Miss Margaret?”
“Have you been listening to this nonsense?”
“Well. Ma’am. It be a bit hard for me not to hear.”
“Excellent. So then. You’re a grown woman with a good mind. What do you think?”
How unfair for Mama to put Daisy in that position! It wasn’t right!
“The way I see it, don’t make no difference what I think. Only Miss Gigi and Mister Ephraim can answer if they be in true love with each other. From everything I’ve seen, it sure looks like they are to me. And that Mister Ephraim, he is about the nicest gentleman I’ve ever seen.”
“He is, Mama. If you’d only get to know him.”
“Well, maybe the second nicest, Miss Margaret. Because that Bonaparte . . . He and I have hit it off right nice, but we’re still in the getting-to-know-each-other stage. I ain’t in a hurry to jump into anything with anyone. Not yet.”
“That’s certainly good to hear!”
“But Miss Gigi, well, she’s a whole another jar of grasshoppers. Guess she needs to put one on the hook and toss it in the creek. See if a fish likes what he sees.”
Somehow, Gigi managed not to laugh, but Gramps either couldn’t or didn’t bother. The good belly kind of laugh erupted followed by a few easier heehaws. Once finished, he pointed at the slave.
“Girl, you are smarter than I thought, and I’ve always held you in high regard. From now on though, I’m asking your advice whenever I’m stumped.”
Like she hated being found out, or was trying not to smile herself, Daisy pursed her lips, but she did nod a tad. “Yes, sir, Mister Riley, sir. I’ll be tickled a pretty shade of purple to offer any help any time.” She nodded then backed out of the room. “If that be all, then . . .”
“See, Mother? Even Daisy thinks it’s up to Ephraim and me to decide. And she knows him best. She isn’t against it or she would’ve said so, and you know it.”
Never in the whole of her life had she seen her mother storm out of a room, but that’s exactly what she did. As if she didn’t know what to say or do, and her tears had no effect on Gramps to get her way. Crying only worked on Papa.
The morning brought a new assault, but that day, instead of fiery words, her mother fired icy stares and rebuffed any attempt at engagement with a cold shoulder.
The woman’s actions were almost comical to some extent. Gramps found it very so, but the truth be known, it stung Gigi’s heart that her mother wasn’t happy for her.
What kind of mother acted like that? She refused to help with the planning.
Bless God. Though Aunt Peggy Sue stayed partially on Gigi’s side and helped on the sly, now and again, she’d drop a hint or four about the virtue of waiting or listening to one’s mother.
Marigold and Daisy were firmly for the pending wedding and had jumped into the preparations as if stomping out a grassfire.
Back at Hindman’s camp, Ephraim had no idea of Gigi’s woes—which proved a good thing on account he had plenty of his own. Besides all the scouting he’d done in Federal-held lands, he had yet to secure leave for himself and Bo.
A ray of light broke through on the twenty-eighth, orders came down that the camp was retreating to shore up the defenses around Bowling Green.
As with all retreats, there were lots of folks running around like chickens with a plethora of June bugs to peck, but Ephraim and his best friend kept their wits and ended up riding together on the same road he and his love had traversed.
Bo reined his gelding close. “I talked with t
hat clerk.”
“Good.” Ephraim glanced around. No one was watching, but he lowered his voice anyway. “He agreeable?”
Eyebrows lifted. “What do you think?” Then Bo gave him the slightest of nods and a grin. “It all depends on how much gold you’re willing to part with.”
“Whatever it takes.”
“I thought so.” His friend smiled. “Think three days will be enough?”
“I’d like a week, but I guess that’ll have to do.”
“I’d like a month, but three days is tops according to our new friend.”
“What about your plans with Miss Daisy?”
The man chuckled. “Don’t worry about us. We’ll think of something.”
Ephraim was sure of that. If only he could get leave through channels. He hated having to bribe a clerk, but he’d already decided whatever came, he would not disappoint his love by being late for his own wedding.
Gigi pulled back the quilt. The day had arrived, but she’d hoped above hopes Ephraim would have arrived last night. If only that was the last day she’d have to sleep alone, but was it to be?
The stupid war was ruining everything!
Slipping out of bed, she grabbed her housecoat and hurried downstairs. Gramps and Daisy sat in the kitchen. He was partially hidden behind the newest issue of the Green River Gazette.
“Good morning.”
The slave jumped up and fetched her a steaming cup. “Here you are, Miss Gigi.”
“Thank you. Mother isn’t up yet?”
“She took her coffee in bed this morning, Missy.”
Gramps held his mug out, then with it freshly filled, set his newspaper down and looked at Gigi.
“Frank Yates stopped in this morning. Said the Federals routed the Rebs in Sacramento.”
“Oh, he did? Why can’t they leave Kentucky out of it? Did he have any news of Papa? Or Christopher?” Waiting for him to answer, she sipped her heavily sugared half coffee, half cream brew. Daisy made it perfectly.
But Gramps only stared at the steaming black liquid in his mug, obviously lost in thought.
“He called it a rout?”
The old gentleman cleared his throat. “That’s the word he used, but nothing about William or Chris. He said the Federals chased the Rebs for five miles or so.”
“Were there casualties?”
“From what I hear, it’s a wonder anyone in a Confederate uniform survived.”
“I see.” The news tightened her chest. “Are they sending any reinforcement troops from here? Did he say? Do you think they will?”
“Doubt it. Frank didn’t say.”
“Gramps.” She held out her hand toward him. “What am I going do? He isn’t here. I set the time for six this evening, but I’m not certain he even received my note. He and Bo and all the Rangers have been out scouting ever since they got to Bowling Green.”
“No need worrying about it.”
“But it just isn’t fair. There’s been at least two or three dozen soldiers in the store, but not one Texican in the whole lot.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what’s going to happen if he’s even one minute late.”
Gigi turned; her mother stood in the kitchen doorway.
“And what’s that, Mother?”
“The wedding will be canceled, of course.” She huffed. “If a man can’t be on time for his own ceremony . . . Well, I say we forget it.”
“Sit down, Margaret.” Gramps nodded toward her mother’s chair. Gigi had never heard him use that tone on her mother or anyone.
“Well . . .” She shot him a look but did as told.
“More coffee, ma’am?” Daisy held the pot, ready to pour.
“Please.” She extended her cup. “If that’s fine with Mister Garland.” Icicles hung on her words as they did the eaves outside the kitchen window.
“Daughter, I’ve had enough. If Ephraim is late, we’ll wait on him. This wedding is happening tonight whatever time he can get here, and that’s that. You, my dear Margaret, need to accept that and make the best of it.”
Mother just sat there. She had to be flabbergasted.
“Our Gigi’s going to be a Kerns after tonight, and Ephraim is going to be your son-in-law. If you ever want him to bring her back for a visit, you best change your attitude, and posthaste.”
“But I—”
He waved her off. “Doc says I might see another year, two at the most. I’m walking Gardenie down the aisle. Period.”
The news of the doctor’s report stabbed Gigi’s heart—no never mind him butchering her name—but his resolve to see her wed relieved her at the same time. Why hadn’t he said something before?
“Gramps! What’s wrong? I thought you were all better?”
“No need to go worrying yourself. He says it’s my ticker. If I take it easy, I might stretch my days to three years. Who knows but God how long I’ve got? Not the doc, that’s for sure.”
Gigi didn’t notice any change in her mother’s attitude, but when she and the others loaded in the buggy to go to the church, there she was. Dressed like the mother of the bride should be, she played her usual take-charge self.
Quizzing everyone to be certain all things were ready, she at last let Gramps slap a little leather.
It pleased Gigi to no end that she’d come around. On the way to the church, she noticed all the Confederate soldiers and the toll they’d taken on the beautiful little town. Ephraim had to show up. He had to be there.
Once the church came into view, she touched Gramp’s arm.
“What time is it?”
He pulled out his pocket watch. “Looks like four minutes until four. We’re here ahead of time.”
Marigold stood. “Don’t worry, Sister. He’ll be here.”
How could she not worry? Whether it did any good or not. There had to be at least a million reasons why he might not make it, period. Much less not on time.
“I love your optimism, Marigold.”
The twelve-year-old puffed up as if she bore a special gift.
But then didn’t Jesus say to have childlike faith?
On the way in, her mother put her arm around her. “He’ll be here. Only a fool would stand you up at the altar, my darling. You’re such a treasure. Ephraim knows what a prize you are.”
“I love you, Mama. If only Papa and Christopher could be here, too.”
“Amen, my love. Amen to that.”
Was that a bit of regret? Did she think Papa wouldn’t have given his blessing? Or was it only because she missed him, too?
It really didn’t matter how long she had to wait. She’d be there until the New Year arrived if she had to. However long it took. Just like Gramps said, come what may, she was going to be a Kerns.
As she crossed the building’s threshold, a sweet peace settled over her soul.
While she made her final preparations in the Sunday School room she’d attended as a child, it seemed the devil offered a reason a minute why Ephraim wouldn’t show up, but she refused to fret.
Instead, she kept reminding herself that the man had given his word. He would be there. He promised.
Dressed and ready, she moved to the preacher’s office just off the vestibule to wait. According to Gramps, all arrangements with the pastor and in the sanctuary were ready and waiting, too. The guests had arrived and had been seated.
Now all she needed was her groom.
Nothing left to do but wait.
So, wait she did. She hummed several favorite hymns, studied all the titles along the shelves of the preacher’s library, wondering if he’d read them all, and fiddled with the paperweight on his desk. Time went so slowly!
She found herself softly singing “Aura Lea,” a haunting love song. Was Ephraim singing it on his way to her?
Oh, where was he?
“Help him, Lord,” she whispered. “Make his way straight.”
Almost as soon as the prayer left her lips, a distant rumble sounded as though someone had fired a dozen cannons twe
nty miles away.
Oh, no! She glanced at the grandfather clock. Three minutes to six.
Had the Yanks finally made their move? Would a battle ruin everything? She hurried to the window and closed her eyes to listen harder.
Wait.
It wasn’t cannons; it sounded more like a herd of horses, stampeding right for the church. And close! She opened her eyes and peered out the curtains, searching the road to the right and left.
The pastor’s door burst open, drawing her attention from the window. Marigold threw out both arms. “He’s here! And he’s brought a whole bunch of Texas Rangers with him.”
Epilogue
Never in her life could Gigi have imagined how truly wonderful being married was!
If only her honeymoon had lasted longer than three days, but at least he’d given her that time to lavish his love on her, and he arranged it that he got to town now and again—as often as possible.
Then on the eleventh day of February, not even six weeks after the wedding, General Buckner began moving his troops out of Bowling Green after five months’ occupation.
Two days later, the remaining Confederates lit the business district, warehouses, train depot and bridges on fire, burning down her beloved hometown.
The thieves looted smokehouses and vegetable cellars and stole practically everything off the Garland General Store shelves. She thanked God that General Hindman’s troops hadn’t been a part of the horrible actions of the Confederates.
It made her glad Papa had joined the Union efforts, but at the same time, she hated it that her husband served in the Rebel’s army.
The next three and half years were so hard on Gigi. She and her mother’s relationship improved by leaps and bounds as they prayed and worried together, especially after Gramp’s heart gave out, and the Lord called him home.
The son Ephraim had never seen proved to be the delight of her life.
Had word even reached his father? She wasn’t certain he even knew he had a son.
As much as the women talked about heading to Texas, they couldn’t bring themselves to leave Bowling Green in case the men returned. Every day, they prayed and hoped.
Then in God’s mercy, like all wars, the battles against brothers came to an end.
