Chapter 23
In the port city of Louisville, Brown General Hospital, situated on Broadway between Ninth and Tenth streets, had been confiscated as refugee headquarters for the Confederate women and children arriving from Nashville.
Ironically, the building was only a short distance away from the military prison where many of the Roswell Battalion soldiers, captured after the burning of the Chattahoochee bridge, were also lodged as prisoners.
Late one afternoon, when the women and children had been in the city for only a short time, Puckka Knox, who had seen little action with the battalion before being captured, began to gather together his few clothes and possessions prior to being set free.
He glanced at Private Angus Smithwick, who was lounging on the nearby cot. At the man's hostile glare, Puckka quickly averted his eyes and continued to stuff his possessions into the haversack.
"So you took the Oath of Loyalty," Angus accused.
Puckka swallowed as his face turned red. Then he grew angry. "You don’t have to look at me like I'm some traitor, Angus. Plenty of others have done the same. And if you didn't have such a stubborn streak in you, you could be leavin' today, too."
"I'd rather rot in jail than to go against my principles." After his harsh words, Angus began to feel sorry for the overgrown boy. His tone softened. "Still, I guess if you're only thirteen years old, it's mighty hard to make any sense out of this war."
Puckka nodded. "I just found out my ma and Caddie—they're here in Louisville, too. I'm gonna go and get them out of that awful place. And I hear tell there're lots of jobs in the mills in Indiana. Maybe we'll go there and get work till the war's over."
"If that's the case, you'd better be extra careful. The Confederate scouts, I'm told, hang every man they find goin' over to the other side."
At Angus's warning, Puckka quickly pulled out his uniform from the bundle and threw it on the cot. He walked to the cell door and immediately yelled, "Guard, I'm ready now. You can come and unlock the door."
Once the guard had come and gone, Angus grabbed his crutch and hobbled to the locked door. "Puckka?"
The boy stopped. "What is it, Angus?"
"When you get over to the hospital, if you happen to see a pretty, little redheaded gal named Madrigal O'Laney, tell 'er I'm close by."
"Sure thing, Angus."
Puckka continued walking toward freedom. He thought about Angus and remembered that the man had been good to him while he was in the prison barracks. And if it had been anybody else, he would have done it. But after hearing Madrigal's name, Puckka had no intention of relaying the message.
With quick steps, he walked to Broadway and traveled down the street until he came to the two-storied brown building. He walked past the few shade trees and finally knocked at the locked gate.
"I come for a woman—Rena Knox and her child, Caddie."
The guard looked at Puckka. Because of his size, he did not suspect that the boy was so young.
"You must be answering the advertisement in the paper," the guard said, and waited for the young man to verify it.
Puckka hesitated. "The advertisement?"
"Yes. You know, the one sanctioned by the provost marshal. It's a pretty good deal, getting one of these women as a bond servant for nothing. Especially since the proclamation's put a stop to getting any other servants."
When Puckka remained silent, the talkative guard confessed, "You getting her for a seamstress or a house servant?"
"Er, a seamstress."
"Then you might not want her little girl, too. If it's the one I'm thinking about, she was sorta sickly when they came in."
Quickly, Puckka said, "That's all right. I'll take the girl, too."
"Well, you could be right. She's a pretty little thing. You might find a use for her later on, if you get what I mean."
If Puckka had learned one thing in military prison, it was how to control his temper. He grinned at the guard and said, "Tell me where I can find them."
The guard consulted his chart. "Up on the second floor, toward the back of the building."
Puckka walked down the long hall, where the doors to the rooms were open to catch the slight breeze. He saw children playing hopscotch between the beds where the women sat and sewed. At the sound of his footsteps, the women looked up in curiosity, but the children continued playing.
The boy hurried past, walked up the stairs to the second floor, and then began the search for his mother.
"Why, Puckka Knox, what are you doin' here?" Flood Tompkins inquired on seeing the boy who had worked in the woolen mill.
"I'm lookin' for my ma and Caddie. You know where they are, Flood?"
The large woman hesitated. "They're not here, Puckka. They moved Caddie down to a room in the back of the building. Rena's there, watchin' after her."
"What's wrong with Caddie?"
"She's got the fever, Puckka—after comin' down with the measles. She's over them now, but the fever's still hangin' on."
Puckka hurried back along the hall. Through one of the doors, he saw the Forsyth woman and her servant. But nowhere did he catch a glimpse of Madrigal O'Laney, which was just as well.
Once he reached the rooms at the back of the building, he began to get worried. There was something about bodies burning up with fever that no amount of sweet-smelling flowers could disguise. It was true in the prison and it was true here in that portion of the building he had come through.
Puckka stumbled past some of the cots where emaciated forms lay. Some moaned in pain; others were silent, their eyes staring up at the ceiling.
"Ma?" He waited for the woman to look up. "It's me—Puckka."
Her face was severe as she looked at the boy. "You've grown a lot, Puckka, since I last saw you."
"I…I come to get you, Ma. You and Caddie."
"How'd you find us, son?"
"I heard—over at the prison—about the train that come in. I was hopin' you and Caddie were on it."
"But how did you get free?"
"I signed the loyalty oath, Ma."
"Hush, Puckka. Not so loud. Somebody might hear you." Rena Knox looked around the room, but no one acted as if Puckka's confession had been uttered. "Where're we goin'?"
"On to Indiana. I got me a little money, Ma. Maybe just enough to get us there. I already signed for you, so I'll stay with Caddie while you go and get your things."
"Don't talk to a soul while I'm gone, Puckka."
"No, ma'am."
A few minutes later, after saying good-bye to Addie and no one else, Rena Knox followed her son out of the building. He carried Caddie in his arms. Her face was still splotched with a few remaining measles spots, and Puckka could feel the heat of her body through the thin sheet.
Through an upstairs window, Madrigal O'Laney saw the three step onto the open grounds. She watched the guard unlock the gate. And she stood at the window until they had completely disappeared from view.
Madrigal felt none of the old animosity for Puckka. Those innocent days by the river seemed a thousand years ago. Ellie was gone. And so was Private Smithwick. For a fleeting moment, she traced her finger along her mouth and remembered the gentle kiss she'd given to the soldier.
Finally, Madrigal wrapped her robe around her and turned from the window. Flood already suspected her condition, and it wouldn't be too much longer before everyone else knew, too.
Even though Puckka Knox had not read the advertisement placed in the Constitution Union newspaper by the provost marshal, there was another man who had—Captain Glenn Meadors. And he immediately recognized the miracle he'd sought had fallen into his hands like a ripe fig.
It had been a long way to Louisville from the plantation, which was located between Shelbyville and Lexington. But if he were successful, the trip would be worth it.
In anticipation of hiring someone, he had brought the carriage, instead of riding his horse. And he'd been careful, too, to carry some identification papers belonging to his brother, Rad. Otherwi
se, as a Confederate officer in a military supply town full of Union soldiers, he might wind up in the military prison not far from the refugee headquarters.
He threaded his way through the streets, trying to avoid hitting the roaming pigs that plagued Louisville even worse than Nashville. He traveled along the railroad tracks, casually watching the military supplies being loaded for the battles going on in Arkansas and Missouri. But spying on military shipments was not his main objective. And so he hurried past the large strawberry fields not far from the tracks and reached Broadway, where he tied up his horses and walked to the same gate into the hospital that Puckka Knox had used.
Another guard was on duty this time, a Corporal Massey, whose fighting days were over because of the loss of his right arm.
Assuming his brother's identity, Glenn straightened and began to walk with the swinging, self-confident stride of the tall, dark-haired Rad. His easygoing manner disappeared, too, and was replaced by a no-nonsense, unsmiling face.
Glenn approached the gate. "I'm Major Rad Meadors, Fifth Cavalry," he announced. "I'd like to look over your prisoners to see if you have anyone suitable to work on my plantation."
"Of course, Major Meadors," the guard said, hurrying to unlock the gate.
After turning the key in the lock, the guard began to follow the man through the open grounds. "Some of the prisoners are taking the air on the grounds," he announced. "Perhaps you'd like to start your inspection outside."
"Yes, that would be fine. Thank you, Corporal."
"Sir, may I say something?"
"Corporal?"
"Just that I'm one of your staunchest admirers. You see, I was in the battle when you captured some of Morgan's raiders up in Ohio."
Glenn kept his face bland. "A pity Morgan escaped. But we'll catch up with him one of these days, won't we, Corporal?"
"That we will, sir. That we will."
With a nod so typical of his brother, Glenn dismissed the guard. He stood alone and watched the people milling about in the yard. Suddenly he walked up to one of the prisoners.
"What's your name, mister?"
Flood Tompkins, dressed in her dead husband's clothes, with her hair pulled into a knot and hidden by the cap, turned toward the man. "Flood," she said. "Flood Tompkins."
"My name is Major Rad Meadors. Do you know anything about horses or tobacco?"
Flood hesitated. "A little about both."
"How would you like to leave this place to work on a beautiful farm in bluegrass country?"
"For you?"
"Yes. Only I'll be going back to my cavalry unit soon. I need somebody to plant the next crop of tobacco and watch over my few horses until I return home."
"How much does the job pay?"
"Depends on how well you look after the farm."
Flood had seen the look in other men's eyes. The man was desperate but appeared not to be. And Flood, realizing she had some bargaining power, took advantage of it. "I dunno. I've always worked for straight wages before. I got a family, you know."
"Are they here at the prison with you?"
"Yes."
"Well, speak up, man. How many?"
"Two, plus the baby. And our black woman, of course."
Glenn tried to disguise his delight. Rad would certainly be pleased if he learned Glenn had been able to hire an entire family with that many additional hands to work on the farm.
"All right. Room and board, with a place for your entire family. And if you do a fine job of it, then you'll certainly be rewarded upon my return. Is it a bargain?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, then, go and round up your family. I want to get back to the farm before morning. Oh, and Flood?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Give me the names of your family members, so I won't have to waste any time signing you out."
"Allison and Madrigal. And the servant's name is Rebecca."
"Well, step on it, man. We've got a long way to go."
Flood hurried out of the yard, past the apple tree, and disappeared into the dingy brown building. She tugged at a wisp of hair that had come loose from the knot and adjusted her cap.
While Glenn waited for Flood to reappear, he strolled along the grounds. He was in no hurry for further conversation with the guard.
Ten minutes later, Flood appeared and directly behind her came Allison, with the baby, and the other two. "We're ready, Major," Flood said.
"Good. Then just follow me to the carriage."
As soon as Glenn approached the guard's station, the corporal said, "You find anybody to suit you, Major?"
"These people will do," he admitted grudgingly.
"If you'll just sign here, Major, and then I'll write down their names."
In a hurry, Glenn scribbled his brother's name. He turned to the guard. "Just send them to my carriage as soon as they sign out."
The guard carefully checked off the names of Allison Forsyth, Madrigal O'Laney, Rebecca Smiley, and Flood Tompkins. As an afterthought, he wrote, "Morrow Forsyth, age 5 months."
As the carriage carrying the women began its journey past Ninth Street, an overturned supply wagon was being righted by four men.
While Glenn waited for the street to be cleared for him to get through, one of the men looked up. "Hey, Glenn. Glenn Meadors. I thought you was off fighting. When did you get home?"
Glenn tightened his hands on the horses's reins and stared straight ahead. He ignored the worker's greeting, and as soon as an opening was made, he rushed the carriage past the spilled debris in the street.
With the disconcerting stare of the blonde-haired woman, the man forced a smile. "I'm often mistaken for my brother," he explained.
Allison returned his smile and relaxed against the comfortable seat of the well-sprung carriage. She didn't speak, for she was well aware of Flood's subterfuge and didn't want to do anything to mar their chances.
Although Flood and Madrigal knew absolutely nothing about running a plantation, Allison and Rebecca did. And so Major Meadors would have no cause for regrets. The four of them, working together, would make sure that the horse and tobacco farm would not suffer neglect because of them.
Chapter 24
Known as the "dark and bloody ground," from the early days when pioneers had fought Indians, Kentucky was still a land of bloodshed, with families and neighbors divided over the war. Entire families had disappeared overnight, leaving their houses and barns vacant, as the military regime imprisoned civilians on the flimsiest of charges, tried them in military court, and then executed them without recourse.
The lawlessness and erosion of civil liberties in those states bordering the Ohio River had been the reason for the creation of the "Paw-Paw Militia," named for the fruit they subsisted on in the wild.
Made up of refugees, deserters, oath takers, and those who had escaped from the military prisons, they were a mysterious group of men sympathetic to the Confederate cause who retaliated—eye for eye, tooth for tooth—for the more flagrant offenses committed against the people.
And so it was a time of vengeance on both sides, with political events doing nothing to lessen that animosity. Even Bluegrass Meadors had been victim to the exorbitant fees demanded of all suspected Confederate sympathizers for the relief of Union orphans and widows.
As Glenn Meadors, captain in the Confederate army, directed the carriage eastward toward the rolling meadows where the blue haze of grass spread over the land, he was still resentful of the cavalier manner in which his share of Bluegrass Meadors had been assessed. But he'd gotten back at the Unionists, after all, by hiring the Confederates from the refugee prison. And when he wrote to his brother, he certainly wouldn't be foolish enough to tell Rad where he'd found the workers. He'd be more careful than that.
With his sense of caution relaxed somewhat since leaving the outskirts of Louisville, Glenn came alive again. Although he'd gotten away with posing as his brother in the city, he was traveling closer to his own home, and it would be easier now for someon
e to recognize him.
"You think we could stop for water at the next house, Major Meadors?"
Glenn turned to stare at the red-haired girl. He was thirsty, too, and the horses needed watering. But he'd rather remain thirsty than risk his head—for the next house belonged to Royal Freemont, a Union sympathizer, who knew both brothers.
"I doubt the owners would allow you the use of their well," Glenn explained. "They have no regard for Rebels. Anyway, my house is just over the next hill. We should be there before dark."
His explanation caused Madrigal to tighten her lips. "Well, drive on. I'd rather be a thirsty Rebel than a galvanized Yankee anyday!"
Despite himself, Glenn laughed. She was a feisty little thing—Rebel through and through—and it amused him. Prison had evidently not done much to her spirit. He gazed again at her, noticing the tight calico dress straining against her full breasts. And then, catching himself, he quickly returned his attention to the horses.
There was one other thing he'd noticed, too. The family was a motley group. The woman, Allison, though she had spoken only a few words during the entire trip, had a more genteel accent than any of the others. Except for the chopped hair, she reminded him a little of his mother. But despite the loss of the woman's hair, she held her head in a regal manner. He had observed her posture right away, too, which was at odds with the way the young girl, Madrigal, sat.
Finally, when the haze of blue spread in every direction and the swallows began to fly toward the tall trees of oak and ash to roost for the night, Glenn stopped the carriage for a moment and pointed toward the house in the distance.
"That's Bluegrass Meadors," he announced.
A tall, stately redbrick mansion with large white Doric columns appeared beyond the tree-lined drive. Dark green shutters framed the windows of the first two stories, while the setting sun caught its reflection in smaller dormer windows of a third story.
Rebecca Smiley watched Allison's reaction to the elegant house. She saw the pain dull her eyes as recognition came, swift and sure.
The house was nothing like Rose Mallow. Rather, it was a companion in style and elegance to Allison's childhood home in Savannah. Only the moss on the oaks was missing.
The Roswell Women Page 17
