Occupy Savannah Sequel to Coffee Bluff

by Willard White

them down like a toy that had become boring. Her face had grown thinner, her eyes were deeper set and her body had matured into a woman's body. In spite of my misgivings she took my breath away.

  For her part, Julia appeared to be surprised and fearful. She got out of her chair, then thought better of it and sat down. Chester remained seated, his rigid body position communicated chagrin. I put my emotions back on the shelf and concentrated on getting down the last few steps without falling. Going down stairs was particularly frightening for me because I feared passing out and pitching face first down the stairs. By the time I got to the bottom, Julia's training came to the surface.

  "Well, this is a surprise," she said, "It's good to see you again, Luke."

  As I advanced toward them I had no difficulty locating the hole in the wall. It was between them, just where I suspected it would be. A brick lay on the ground by Chester's boot. Two half consumed drinks and two pencils occupied the surface of the table. No writing paper was in evidence, but I would have to be a dunce to suppose they each had a pencil and no paper. Hazen and his cronies aren't stupid; they would notice the missing brick in the wall and react immediately.

  Chester had dragged his huge pistol out and was aiming it up at me with both hands.

  We had no time for manners. I ignored Chester and held out my hand to her. "Give me the journal, Julia."

  "Why, what journal would that be, Luke?"

  Chester pulled the hammer back. It was a large caliber revolver.

  "That would be the journal you're sitting on, Julia. I - we have no time for games, Julia." I pointed my finger at Chester. "Chester," I kept my voice at a conversational level, "if you pull that trigger, the war will descend on the Branch residence with a vengeance."

  For the hell of it, I fitted the tip of my finger into the barrel. "You've been wanting to shoot me for years, Chester. Here's your chance."

  "You're a lunatic," Chester muttered and put the revolver away.

  "Soldiers are going to come through that door in about one minute. Now give me your notes and I'll get rid of them."

  Julia glanced at Chester. She must have seen something that resembled assent, for she leaned to one side and pulled, not one, but two penny books from the seat of her chair. She extended them without grace.

  "Put that brick back into the wall," I said. "I'll be right back."

  I headed for the kitchen just as a slave servant named Lavonia emerged. I remembered her name because she was married to Jackson. Snobbish as they were, the Branch family treated Jackson and Lavonia very well. They lived in a tiny apartment over the carriage house at the rear of the garden, and they actually had more security than any of us. For all his faults, I was convinced Alexander Branch would never sell Jackson and Lavonia. I happened to know they were treated with dignity, respect, and even affection. Lavonia had been like a mother to Julia after her mother passed away.

  "Hello, Lavonia," I said, "Take me to the stove."

  "Mr. Luke!" was all she managed to say. She looked past me at her mistress and got the affirmation she was looking for. She turned and I followed her into the kitchen. The range wasn't that hard to find, it was in the middle of the room. Lavonia knew what I intended to do; she picked up a large cotton mitten and pulled the lever on the fire box door.

  I tossed the books into the fire and Lavonia closed the door and latched it.

  "Thanks, Lavonia."

  Chester and Julia were attempting to reinsert the brick into the hole in the wall without total success. It seemed to be stuck about halfway. I gathered up the pencils and threw them into a bush and dragged the table a couple of feet away from the wall without spilling the drinks.

  It might have been humorous, were we not in such a desperate hurry. Chester attempted to push at the brick with his now boot-shod wooden leg. He stood on his good leg and couldn't get my old boot to stay on the brick when he pushed.

  "Let me try it," Julia said. "Her little foot was just as ineffective as Chester's. There wasn't any point in my even making an attempt. I was tempted to pick up a chair and hammer the brick into the wall. The noise would have given it all away.

  Lavonia stepped in front of me, hiked her skirts, put her foot on the brick and pushed it in until it was flush with the wall.

  Nobody said a word, but Julia reached out and squeezed Lavonia's arm.

  "Now Chester," I said. "Congratulations on your new boots. I'd like to visit, but you can't be here. Stay in the carriage house, and we'll have Herb bring your wagon down the alley when it's safe."

  Chester glared at me and mulishly refused to move.

  "You know what the stakes are," I reminded him.

  Chester took up his cane and levered himself to his feet. "Julia," he said, and ambled away toward the rear of the garden.

  I rearranged the chairs by the little table and lowered myself into one.

  Julia knelt before me and began to remove my bandage. I had recently taken to cutting the leg of my pants off so the knee could be treated and the bandage changed without my having to remove my pants. I was embarrassed by the appearance and the smell of the suppurating wound. Without having prior exposure to wounds like this, Julia was going to be sick when she saw it and smelled it. "It needs changing anyway," she explained. "Lavonia, there's some cotton waste in the lower right side drawer of the sewing machine, would you get it for me? Oh, and some string, please."

  When she exposed my knee she let out a low moan and dropped the rancid bandage on the ground. She stood abruptly and moved around the table to the remaining chair. She sat for a moment, then picked the chair up and moved it around in front me and reseated herself.

  "You need to do something about this, Luke."

  "You know what the doctors will do."

  "Chester and I, we talked about you. He thinks you should give up the leg. Give it up and let them ship you back home.

  "I can't do that, Julia. I've seen Andersonville," I said.

  Julia had no idea what that meant. I was just going to explain when I was interrupted by a mild commotion at the top of the stairs. Colonel Davisson was explaining to Jackson the urgency of seeing Captain McGilvry. He spotted us and came down the steps followed by the artillery Sergeant and Avery.

  The sight of Julia slowed him down. "Sorry for the intrusion, ma'am, but we heard loud voices and..." He sheepishly removed his hand from his revolver.

  Julia rose from her chair: "Good morning, sir. We were just dressing Luke's wound, did he make too much noise?"

  I gathered my crutch and pulled myself to my feet and saluted. "Colonel Davisson this is Julia Branch, Julia, this is Colonel Davisson, Sergeant, ahh, Artillery and Private Avery.

  Julia's beauty and gentility, and my formality seemed to stop Davisson in his tracks. His eyes went from me to Julia to my knee. I felt some satisfaction, for a change, at having blood and pus running down my leg.

  "Pleasure to meet you, ma'am," he said and lifted his hat. He looked around the garden while the Sergeant and Avery mumbled greetings at Julia; was he looking for a spy? "Is everything OK, then?" he directed the question at me.

  "Yes, sir, Julia is an old friend. I just stopped by to see her and she offered to renew the dressing on my knee."

  "She's every bit as lovely as you said," Avery added.

  Lavonia walked around the group and handed the clean cotton wadding to Julia, who then turned to Colonel "Would you all like a cool drink?"

  They were back up the stairs and out of sight in two minutes.

  "Lavonia, we'll be needing some whiskey," Julia said conversationally, "get Daddy's best off the sideboard. Bring the whole bottle."

  "You're going to hate me for this," she said.

  I said nothing. I was marshalling my thoughts and my courage to say to her what needed to be said. She was definitely going to hate me.

  I knew the drill; I'd been through it many times. I gripped the arms of the chair and tried not to scream when she poured the expensive whiskey over my knee.

  When
I could speak: "Do you take special satisfaction out of hurting me and your father at the same time?"

  She smiled. "A certain perverse satisfaction, yes."

  "Julia, you have to stop this," I said.

  She stopped wrapping my knee and looked up.

  "You have no idea what you're sticking your nose into," I said. "It has to stop."

  "Why, Luke McGilvry, what ever are you sayin'?" She tied the last knot and sat down in her chair.

  I needed to impress her, I needed to frighten her out of her wits, and do it without yelling. I was very much concerned about the senior officers on the other side of the wall hearing us. I pulled myself to my feet and got in front of Julia and leaned over her until my face was inches from hers.

  "You know exactly what I'm saying, Julia," I hissed. "You must stop trying to be a spy. You don't understand the risks. There's a war on, Julia; a war more horrible than you can possibly imagine. Just think of it as a tornado that destroyed Atlanta and everything between Atlanta and Savannah. Now it has miraculously lifted back into the sky and just might pass over Savannah; if you're lucky, and will soon strike Augusta and Charleston."

  I hated myself for doing it, but I was using her to pass on my disinformation, even as I threatened her.

  "Hell itself is camped right across the railroad tracks, Julia. There are 60,000 men over there, don't make the mistake of thinking they are all gentlemen. Do you have any idea what will happen if you get caught? Let me tell you what will happen: If anyone, myself included, suspects you of spying on the United States