“Ms. Ava, stop crying, dear,” the preacher announced gently. “No one doubts your faith and duty to your husband. You have been a vigilant, shining example of what a Confederate wife should be. You have waited patiently and carried on the business. Now it’s been almost three years since the war ended. People would not judge you or chastise you if you moved on. I do not believe that Peter would blame you in the slightest. I think he would want you happy.”
Hearing this admission tore great heaving sobs from Ava. It was like she was finally mourning her husband and the possible reality of his death. There would be no more bright smiles from him or proud glances as he introduced her as his wife. They were married a scant month before he left for the war and she had waited seven long, lonely years for his return.
“Shhh, dear! You’ll make yourself sick,” Trudy chastised.
Hiccupping, Ava wiped her nose. “Do you think I should send a letter and see if he has contacted them?”
“Would it make you feel better?”
“Perhaps. I would hate to think he would be searching for a new life. But if he is stranded out there trying to come home…?”
“Then send word. Put your mind at ease.”
“And in the meantime?”
“In the meantime, you carry on, young lady. You be strong and know that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. You never know how God’s hand guides you. He gave you Peter to get through tough times, maybe he will give you another road to follow,” the preacher cut in. “We’ll be happy to walk you over, if you would like support from a few friends.”
“I’d really appreciate that,” Ava said quickly, feeling her eyes well up again. She hadn’t cried in years but, now, she couldn’t seem to stop.
“Even speaking your fears takes great strength,” Trudy said easily with confidence. “Our Melton met her husband from a letter. If it’s meant to be, it will be. The first step is the hardest on a long journey but you are never alone, even if you thought you were. We have a letter for you, if you are ready to accept it.”
“No, I need to think. I just need to mail the letter right now and think longer on what I want,” she whispered, backing away. Fear and guilt tore at her stomach. She needed help, wanted companionship but the doubt was always there. Maybe Peter was on his way and she needed to wait a bit longer.
Against Ava’s wishes, the preacher hitched up the horses to a wagon, insisting there was no need to walk the distance. While she appreciated the ride, she gave the horse a wide berth and stared at him defiantly as he pawed uneasily. She disliked the creatures because they distinctly disliked her. Climbing in the wagon, she got seated and clenched her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking. This was beyond the pale! Had she lost her mind? As she was steeling herself to desperately bolt from the wagon, it lurched forward and settled into a rhythmic pace.
“We are so glad you came by,” Trudy told her absently, as if trying to comfort her. Ava was certain her eyes were still red from her bout of crying. She was also pretty sure that she would be sick if she didn’t stop her crying soon.
“You’ve given me a good reason to make a trip to the store. We needed to head over to get supplies anyhow.”
“That’s good,” Ava replied woodenly, wiping a tear that snuck down her cheek. There was no beating around the bush, she was distraught and it could be all for nothing. She would simply mail the letter she had already drafted searching for Peter. Trudy said she had a letter for her with a mail-order groom if she was ready to accept it. How long had this potential groom waited for a response? Was she too late? Would Peter return? She was mentally talking herself out of the situation.
As the preacher rounded the corner, Ava saw the store in the distance and her heart began to flutter nervously. “Sweet baby Jesus,” she whispered, crossing herself. She cringed as the preacher barked, “blasphemy!” over his shoulder at her, reminding her of where she was and who she was with.
“Shhh! It’s just a letter, remember that. It can’t hurt you,” Trudy chided with a knowing smile that made Ava feel a bit awkward. She wasn’t an eighteen-year-old girl again, but a married woman that was assuming she was a widow. There was no certainty in her status or her life, other than tomorrow would be the same as the day before… and the day before… and again, the day before. The silence in the house, the loneliness, the dead bodies and the crying. The one thing she was certain of is that she needed a change.
As the wagon pulled to a stop, Ava shook her head and swallowed bile. She was going to be ill. There was no guarantee that her legs would hold her up if she tried to stand. “I can’t. I’m not certain this is right,” she breathed lightly. “Peter could...”
“It’s up to you. It’s only a letter and you are just needing to confirm what your heart already knows,” the preacher interjected. “You ladies may stay here, but I am going to head in.”
“I will join you, Husband,” Trudy announced and departed the wagon. This left Ava with the horse that glared at her. She was certain that if the horse realized it, he would take off running with her trapped in the back. Wretched things! It would be just her luck, too! Would it hurt so much to assuage her curiosity? Just a peek?
At that very moment, the horse let out a loud neigh and glanced over its back at her. She could have sworn it smiled at her, causing Ava to launch herself indelicately out of the wagon in fear for her safety. Trying to gain her composure, she shook out her skirts and threw back her shoulders.
Trudy and the preacher stood near the counter with their goods. In Trudy’s hand, a worn envelope was extended towards Ava with a warm smile. They looked at each other and then at Ava with a supportive smile. “Take it. You never know.”
“No,” she breathed, shocked and surprised. The tiny envelope seemed larger than life as her hand extended towards it of its own accord. The paper gave a little crinkle as she found herself clutching it. Glancing up, she saw several faces nodding in approval that she was receiving a letter from a potential groom. If there had been one single frown, she would have bolted!
Opening it slowly, she let out a small gasp as she read the first few words. He had been a soldier and his name was Jeremiah. Swallowing nervously, she smiled awkwardly.
“I think I need to read it in private. I hope you understand.”
“Certainly. We never expected you to open it with us. Let us finish loading up and we’ll drop you off at home shortly,” the preacher agreed. “You should mail your letter as well, my dear.”
The minutes seemed to drag by as she waited patiently for each of them to pay for their goods, including herself. Sliding her envelope across the counter and the other worn envelope into her drawstring clutch, she looked around nervously as if awaiting judgement. Hands shaking, she glanced again to Trudy for support. At the woman’s sage nod, she picked up some more tea and splurged on a lemon that was in a basket on the back counter. Lemons were rare and certainly a treat. A few other necessities and they headed back to the wagon. She felt so torn.
Ava was so preoccupied with the thoughts whirling in her head, that she didn’t even notice the horse this time as she climbed in the wagon. As they arrived in front of her small stoop, she again was heedless of the horse. She nearly tripped as she stepped up on the wooden planks that composed her front porch area. Waving, she thanked the Smiths and politely extended an offer for them to come inside. She was relieved as they exchanged a glance and declined, instead snapping the reins and driving off.
Walking in the front door, she dropped down upon the chaise, weakly. It had been Peter’s mother’s favorite possession and claimed it made her feel regal to sit upon it. For Ava, not so much. She figured that if she passed out from fear or anxiety, it would be a soft place to land. Shaking, thin fingers unfolded the letter again as she began to read, noting the harsh scrawl of his handwriting and coarseness of the wording.
My name is Jeremiah Ellington and I am twenty-nine. I was a soldier and surgeon in Waul’s Legion, captured at Vicksburg and released.
I am strong and of able body, except for a limp that was caused by gunfire. As I write this, I have found my home is gone. I am seeking shelter, honest work and a chance to build a new life.
Sincerely,
J. Ellington
1st Infantry Battalion
Shreveport, Louisiana
Ava stared at the letter. The words tore at her. His home was gone and he was willing to work. A surgeon? He would be used to blood and bodies then, not squeamish like she was. Perfect, she thought. She was distracted by a rapping at the door. It was that knock at the door announcing another body would be delivered, as well as his words… asking to build a new life… that touched her. Didn’t she want the exact same thing? A chance at a new life? She felt so torn. Guilt and excitement pulsed through her.
“Just a moment,” she called as they knocked again. Yes, she would write Jeremiah and pray for the best. Opening the front door, she hid her emotions as a distraught man told her of his brother passing. Glancing over his shoulder, she saw that he was strapped loosely to a horse and carried to her business. “Take him across the street to the funeral parlor and I shall meet you there momentarily.”
4
April 1868
Maypearl, Texas
Ava was plagued by doubts! She wasn’t certain how this would all work. What if Mr. Jeremiah Ellington didn’t arrive as he said he would? She had received another letter stating that he would be arriving via train on Friday if there were no delays. The last few days she had been quite jumpy. Every time she heard the train coming through town, she wondered if his timing was off. It had been a rough few weeks with a few more people passing.
It always amazed her the flux between life and death. One moment, there might be several babies born. The next, several deaths. The saying that “death comes in threes” was more along the lines of five or more that she had noticed personally. Each time she had doubts on sending the response letter to Mr. Ellington, something seemed to prevent her from writing a second letter that explained the change of mind. And now he was here- or should be!
As the train loomed in the distance, she heard the great gasps and chugs the large steam engine made. She had never noticed it before and found herself mimicking it. Each heartbeat, each breath seemed to pulse or churn in time with the engine. She was nervous.
The idea of taking someone in to replace Peter had not sat well. That thought alone started bouts of doubt and anxiety in her mind. She had been honor bound as his wife and now she felt guilty, like she was shrugging off his memory. Several ladies had sent off for grooms and it had gone against everything in her at the very beginning. But she found herself envious over the last few weeks at the hope and happiness in their faces. She wasn’t sure if this was the right thing to do, but something had to change. Now, she found herself curious about other things that would be different.
The slowing progression of the train seemed to go on forever until the grating screech of the brakes made her jump in alarm. She had not been expecting it to be so loud. But then again, she also had not been expecting anyone on a train before, nor had she been so very close to one. At her home, she just tuned out the noises of the town and it became commonplace.
Now, it was a signal that her potential helper for the business would be arriving. For a moment, she did a double take as she realized it was not a passenger train, but a freight train. There were only box cars that would be laden with goods. There was a large cart that held several steers in the far distance.
As she turned to leave, she noticed that one or two people climbed out of the box cars. One older man propped a crutch under his arm as he started forward, headed to town. Ava almost flagged him down to ask his identity but stopped. If Mr. Ellington had lied to her about being able bodied, the last thing she wanted to do was confront him. He looked completely world weary and much older than described. He would simply not do for what she needed. She needed someone to help her lift and carry bodies at the undertaker’s funeral home. This man needed his arm for his crutch and would not be able to do so.
Waiting patiently, she saw another man disembark the train. This man was much younger and looked to be able bodied. No crutch or cane was pulled from the floor of the train as he stood next to it. Instead, he pulled out one simple knapsack. His clothing looked to be quite well-worn and there were signs that he had mended several tears over time. He pulled a black infantry hat and dusted the straw off of it carefully, proudly, before placing it onto his head. Ava noticed that the black hair seemed to match the hat giving him a quite uniform look regardless of the ragged clothing he wore.
This must be him, she thought candidly, watching to see if he needed aid for the pronounced limp he claimed to have. She stared boldly at his form, waiting for his first steps only to find herself perusing a bit more than just his legs. A holster was slung low on his hips and seemed to rest perfectly. Blushing heartily, she realized that he had turned and was staring at her as well.
Brilliant blue eyes seemed to blaze from his tanned face. A tentative smile began to ease his strained features. From her point of view, he seemed to have a dusting of whiskers on his chin indicating that he hadn’t shaved in several days. It used to be the fashion to have a burly beard like Jefferson Davis but, more and more, men were becoming clean shaven like President Andrew Johnson. She gave a slight curtsey in greeting, indicating that she had been waiting. Ladies did not call out or behave unseemly, however, the lady in her was tempted to run away! This thought made her fight a smile as she imagined what his expression would look like if she left him standing there.
It would be cruel to do so, when he was obviously looking for work and shelter as he had claimed. As he took a step forward, she saw the limp he had mentioned. It was not horrible or pronounced as he claimed, but more of a slow gait or swagger. He could almost look arrogant if he had been dressed to the nines as her Peter had once been. Peter had made a show of having a perfect cravat when they took a walk about town. This man had no cravat, instead his dress shirt was unbuttoned at the neck, exposing it.
“Welcome to Maypearl, Texas, Mr. Ellington,” Ava said politely, again taking a deep curtsey and nodding her head in acknowledgement. She tried not to wrinkle her nose at the dust and sweat smell that was coming off of him. She was certain that travelling in a box car must not have been pleasant, but this was a bit much.
“It’s very nice to meet you Miss Ava,” he said politely, yanking his hat off his head and holding it against his chest. “Please, just call me Jeremiah. Mr. Ellington sounds like my departed father.”
“Of course. Did you have a pleasant journey?” she said politely, studying him from under the brim of her bonnet. He had certainly taken liberty to use her first name instead of her married name. While it should have bothered her, it did not. She liked the way her name sounded in his southern drawl. It was so different than Peter’s thick accent.
“Yes, ma’am, I did. A bit tired, but glad to be here.”
“I’m sure,” Ava stared at him for a few minutes. She wasn’t sure what to do next. “Why don’t you come with me and I will show you my home. Then we’ll get you settled in your room at my business across the street. There is some space at the ranch, if you would prefer that instead.” A heated blush rose to her cheeks as she realized that it would be unseemly to have a man in her home unescorted at all, or at least that was how things used to be before the war.
“No ma’am. Just a roof over my head at all would be just fine. Thank you, Miss Ava.”
“Just call me Ava. There is no miss. It’s actually Mrs. Buchannan and that sounds a bit too formal for our situation, doesn’t it?” She felt almost guilty as he stopped walking immediately. Glancing at him, she saw the confusion on his face.
“Mrs. Buchannan? Married or widowed?” he asked simply and she watched his expressive face become closed.
“My husband did not return from the war. There is no Mr. Buchannan,” she said quietly, swallowing hard at the truth of the words. It seemed that everyone
knew it and accepted it, but her.
“My condolences then at your loss.”
“Thank you. Let’s not discuss this here in the street. Let’s get you… home. We need to get you something to eat,” she admonished as she stumbled over the word. It felt so odd to be inviting him into her home whatsoever.
“Ma’am, that sounds perfect. Thank you again.”
“Ava.”
“Of course, Ava.”
They walked slowly, Ava trying to match his pace as he struggled to keep up with her. The slight limp would slow him down but that would not affect his ability to work. She was more relieved to see that he appeared to be strong. In fact, she found herself watching him as they walked, simply studying him out of the corner of her eye. As they approached the house, she noticed her front door was ajar. Stopping dead in her tracks in the dirt road, she felt him tug her arm, pulling her out of harm’s way as she stood there watching.
“Is something the matter?”
“My front door is open.”
“Are you expecting anyone?”
My husband? she thought momentarily, frozen by guilt and horror that washed over her. The irony would not be lost on her if Peter arrived as the young, able-bodied assistant for the business did. He would not take kindly to someone stepping into his shoes, even if she needed the help desperately. Shaking her head, she realized that even if it was him, he would not have left the door ajar for anyone to come in. He was very proud of his home and the thought of someone taking something would have bothered him tremendously.
“No. I locked it before I headed to the station.”
“Stay here.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“Ava, let me make sure there is no one inside.”
“And how would you know a friend from a bandit?”
“Would a friend enter a locked home?”
Looking away, she shook her head. He was correct.
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