An Uncivilized Yankee

by V. V. Wedding

  The next weeks flew by. Her body grew stronger daily, as did her affection for this family who had opened their home and hearts to her, their enemy. It was almost as if she’d been dropped in the middle of a fairy tale, complete with a magical godmother. Like in that Cinderella story she’d read once upon a time. So long ago, before her world went up in flames.

  It began when Caro insisted on providing her with a new wardrobe. Star protested indignantly. She could not, of course, accept their generosity. She still had her pride, if nothing else remained to her, and was not a charity case. At least, not yet.

  Nonsense, she was told. We owe it to you. For helping Travis.

  “I’m afraid you have it all backwards,” she said, still protesting. “I know he told you that I was the primary reason he was wounded, right?”

  “Well, yes,” Caro admitted slowly.

  “And my being here more than balances out whatever small favor I did for him?”

  “I suppose so. But….”

  Star just sat there, one arm folded protectively over the other, head cocked to one side, waiting for the older woman to continue.

  Caro mirrored Star’s defensive pose. “Fine then, if you’ll not take it as the repayment of a debt, then accept it for your own safety.”

  “And ours,” Sam said from the open doorway.

  Starla glanced from husband to wife, momentarily baffled.

  “If anyone sees you in the condition you’re in, there are going to be questions asked, questions none of us want asked. The same goes for your clothes.” He gestured towards her gray uniform, washed and neatly mended, but still covered with rusty stains. “Consider it as a disguise of sorts,” he added.

  I never considered that my presence here might put the Blacks at risk. She bowed her head in surrender. I’ll do nothing to jeopardize them. My pride is not worth that.

  And the first time she stood in front of a mirror and admired her new clothes, Star had to admit how thankful she was for their generosity. I may not deserve it, but, oh, I do so love looking like this. The white of her sling stood out against the deep burgundy calico Caro had chosen. Her frame was far too slender to need a corset, and the full skirt and bodice gave her a fashionable shape for once. She twisted from side to side, taking an almost childlike delight in the swish of crinoline and petticoats, things she normally had little use for.

  “Very nice,” a voice said behind her.

  She swung around to face Sam Black. He was nodding, an approving look on his weathered face. Her mouth became suddenly dry; instinct shouted, “Run!” With effort she reined herself in. No. Not here. Here I am safe. Here I will relax. Here I can be a woman, without fear.

  She swallowed hard, found a shy smile. “Do you really think so?”

  He offered her an arm to lead her downstairs. “I think the local belles had best keep an eye on their beaus, lest a dark and mysterious stranger steal them all away.”

  She allowed herself a light laugh. “No worries about that, sir. I’ve no desire to win the hearts of these Yankee boys.” Just one particular Yankee boy. But I mustn’t let that show. Despite your hospitality, I am not at all certain you would approve of such a match. Were he even willing.

  It was the end of September when her dreams started again. She’d gone to sleep early with a blinding headache, and began to dream almost immediately.

  She was standing on the bank of the Rapidan, water lapping almost at her feet. Somehow she knew where she was, though her conscious mind didn’t recognize the shallow ford below her.

  What am I doing here? she wondered, looking around in confusion. This dream wasn’t like the others—it felt different, strange.

  Then she stiffened and her heart gave a sudden leap. Up at the treeline, shadowed by the sweetgum and beech, was a tall, well known figure. Travis. Her joy turned abruptly to fear. Her dreams never showed good things….

  “Oh no,” she whispered. “Please, not more danger.”

  He obviously couldn’t see her; he was staring straight at her without comment. The picket he spoke with said something, gestured across the river. She turned and looked in the direction indicated. Even in the fading light of dusk she could see the gray clothed man hiding in the brush, could see him raise his long rifle and take careful aim.

  “Travis!” she screamed in warning, unable to shut her eyes against what she knew would come next: his broken body falling to the ground, blood staining the leaves….

  He swung about, almost as if he’d heard her. The wail of a bullet, a startled curse from Travis. Both Yankees returned fire.

  The sniper looked down towards her in surprise. She expected Jake’s amber eyed face. Instead she saw a dark bearded man, who shook his head in confusion before disappearing into the undergrowth.

  Travis held up his arm, staring at his sleeve. The picket let out a low whistle.

  Starla just stood there, beyond shocked at this unusual turn of events. Then relief flooded through her, and she collapsed to her knees.

  He’s safe. Oh, thank You Lord, he’s safe.

  The dream faded into darkness.

  Much later that night she opened her eyes and stared at a bright full moon shining through the curtains. The dream immediately came to mind. What was that? she wondered. But she was too exhausted to think more on it, so she rolled over and quickly fell back asleep.

  The next morning they were in the sitting room. Star was attempting to read, but between the words still sliding about in her mind and the frustration of trying to turn pages with one hand, she wasn’t getting much read. And her worried thoughts returned again and again to the dream. What does it mean? Is he in danger? How had—

  “Caro! We’re going to have company!”

  Sam’s voice echoed down the stairs, punctuated by the thump of his wooden leg on the steps. Star glanced up from the book, somewhat glad for the interruption. Mrs. Black carefully laid down her knitting and went to meet him, a puzzled expression on her lovely face.

  “Whatever are you talking about, a chroi?”

  “Daniel and Emma, and I think Kitty and Tim. Coming up the road. I saw them just now from upstairs.”

  Caro smiled. “Oh, that’ll be nice. We haven’t seen them in ever so long, it seems. The Scotts are close friends,” she told Star, then stopped with a look of consternation. “Oh dear. However are we to explain you?”

  “If I’m not mistaken, Travis has mentioned Starla to Kitty at least,” Sam said from the doorway. “Unless we want your identity trumpeted across the county, it would be best if we called you by a different name…?” His voice ended in a query.

  She scowled. “Call me Estella. I’ll answer to it if I must.”

  Neither pressed her for an explanation. “Fine then, Estella. Anderson is a common enough last name, so we needn’t change that. And why are you here?”

  She quirked a lopsided grin up at him from her seat. “I’m a Rebel spy who’s holding you hostage?”

  “Be serious,” Caro said, pacing back and forth nervously. “We haven’t much time.”

  Actually, I think we’re out of time, Star thought, hearing hooves in the courtyard. “I am serious. They would never believe it, would laugh. Then anything you said afterwards would sound more plausible.”

  They both stared at her, incredulous. Sam gave his wife a look that Star had seen many a time on Travis’ face.

  “Ought we be frightened? That actually made sense.”

  “Samuel, don’t encourage her. We’ll say she’s a visiting cousin.”

  “Your previously-unknown cousin from Virginia?” Star returned, her accent becoming thicker and more noticeable by the syllable.

  Caro stopped pacing for a minute, flinging up her hands as footsteps sounded hollowly on the wooden porch.

  “I have family in Maryland,” Sam hissed at them both as Alexander came down the hall to answer the door. “And you’re not visiting. You were sent here for safety.”

  Star bobbed her head in acknowledgement, thoughts sudd
enly flying through her mind. “That might work. If they ask anything specific, just follow my lead. I’ve some ideas.”

  “I’m sure you do,” he replied. “But don’t dig yourself too deep. And do try to look a bit friendlier.”

  Star pulled herself up out of the big armchair, smoothing back an unruly curl, ever so thankful that at least she’d not be shamed by her dress. A grim smile twisted her mouth.

  I don’t want to be friendly, she thought, chin hardening unconsciously. Especially not with the Kitty Scott. One does not meet an enemy for the first time open and unprepared. Not if you want to win. She sidled even farther back, into a corner of the room, as if to disappear into the shadows.

  Caro would have none of that. She pulled Star back into the middle of the sitting room and kept a firm grip on her arm.

  “Emma! Kitty! How good to see you! Come in and have a seat! I’d like to introduce you to Estella Anderson. Estella is Sam’s cousin, actually second cousin I think, from down in Maryland. Estella, this is Emma and Katherine Scott. Daniel and Timothy are out with the horses. They’ll be here in just a moment.”

  Star barely saw Emma Scott, was only vaguely aware of the short, faded woman who took her hand in a limp clasp. Her eyes were locked on Kitty. Katherine Scott stood inches shorter than herself, making her feel over tall and gawky as the girl stared up at her with haughty hazel eyes. Kitty’s dress of pale blue lawn with russet velvet ribbons showed off her petite figure to perfection, her golden hair was sleek under a little blue cap with a jaunty pheasant feather.

  Kitty looked her up and down, once, twice, and showed even pearl teeth in a smile. No competition here, her look said. Kitty did not offer her hand.

  Star felt all her dreams come crashing down, shattering in a heap at Kitty’s tiny, kid leather encased feet.

  “My, my, but you are a bonnie lass, aren’t you?”

  Star broke away from the skirmish to see a big red faced man looming over her. Suddenly it was Isaac there, fist coming at her. She gasped, stumbling back into Sam, who had come up behind her. A quick look at her white face and he wrapped a protective arm around her, leading her to a chair where she collapsed, breathing hard.

  “You’ll have to forgive Estella, Daniel,” he explained, motioning to the others to be seated. “She’s still not completely recovered from an awful accident.”

  Nice diversion, Major. I should have known that Travis would explain all to you.

  “Indeed,” Caro added. “Why, it’s a miracle she made it here at all, poor lass.”

  All eyes focused on Star, including Sam and Caro. Here I go, she thought, taking a deep breath.

  “Aye, it is a miracle,” she began, speaking slowly, making no effort to hide her soft accent. “Why, if Travis hadn’t been there—”

  Kitty interrupted, “Travis? What has he to do with your story?” Her voice fit her looks—crystalline, cultured, and more than a little arrogant.

  He has everything to do with it, my dear Miss Scott, Star thought. Without him there would be no story, because I would not be alive to tell it.

  “Now, precious, don’t interrupt,” Emma said in a pained voice. Turning to Star she flapped a white hand at her. “Please continue, Miss Anderson.”

  Star swallowed, looking to the Blacks for strength. Stick as close to the truth as possible. Safer that way.

  “Well, I’m from Maryland, as you no doubt can tell.” Though she doubted anyone could actually tell the slight difference in accents. “Harper’s Ferry area, right down by the Virginia border. It hasn’t been the safest of places recently. First one side, then the other. Then Papa got drafted. There was no family nearby for me to go to, and I couldn’t very well stay there by myself. The last time his regiment rode through, Cousin Travis had stopped by. He told Papa that if things got too bad, I was welcome up at Black Forest. So, when he had to leave at the end of June, Papa sent me here.”

  Her voice faltered slightly as she fumbled for the next lie in her tale. “My carriage got caught on the Hagerstown road, one of those first days in July. I just remember the cannons firing, and the horses bolting. I awoke with a troop of very nice Michigan cavalrymen trying to disentangle me from the wreckage. I was wounded, and Will was dead….” Her voice trailed off again as her tale weaving came too close to reality. Will was dead.

  “Who’s Will?” she heard Emma whisper to Caro.

  Caro Black didn’t hesitate a moment. “Will was the driver, an old friend of the family.”

  Star darted a glance from under lowered lashes at Kitty, wishing she could tell how she really arrived. That would spike a gun or two. Though it would likely only be a delaying action.

  “Somehow the Ya—they found Travis for me, because I think he was the one who brought me here, wasn’t he, Caro?”

  “Faith yes. Limp as a rag and dripping blood you were. He had to carry you in, you were in such a bad way.”

  A small pleasure, to watch Kitty’s mouth tighten. Small pleasures seem to be my only lot in life. Thank you, Caro Black, for many small pleasures.

  “So we’ve had some excitement here, on top of the battle and all. Poor Estella still has blackouts from time to time.”

  Her voice faded as Star became adrift in her thoughts again. Oh, what a tangled web we weave…. But the story was a good one, could cover most of what she might accidentally say or do, even provide a reason to stay here.

  Though why should I stay any longer than necessary? was her dark thought. Do I really think I have a chance against such as Kitty Scott, who has the arsenal of childhood friendship, wealth, and stunning beauty?

  “And Katherine swears she saw General Stuart ride by!”

  Star blinked at the mention of her general, and looked around. The conversation had moved on to other subjects, mainly how the Scotts, who lived closer to Gettysburg, had fared during the battle. Kitty nodded her support of her mother’s statement, then turned back to gaze at Star as if she were a mouse.

  A sharp pain began to pulse behind her eyes. Not again. She stood abruptly, swaying as she did.

  “Beg your pardon all, but I feel rather unwell. I’ll see if Ellen will fix me a cup of tea. I may need to lie down for a while.”

  She turned towards Sam and Daniel, who had risen to their feet when she did.

  “Do you need an arm, Sta—ella?” Sam asked with a worried expression.

  “No … no, I’ll be fine, I think.” Mumbling something about “a pleasure to meet you,” she made as hasty a retreat as her throbbing head would allow.

  She could hear the rise and fall of voices behind her as she wandered towards the back of the house with heavy head and heart. The clatter of little shoes on the wooden floor warned her as she entered the kitchen; just in time she braced herself as a small boy darted around the worktable and into her skirts. He fell back and stared up at her with big brown eyes fringed with ridiculously long eyelashes. Crouching down to his level, she reached out to help him up.

  “And who might you be, young sir?” Her voice was unsteady. Mercy, but he might have been Percy at that age.

  Ellen answered for the tongue tied boy. “This is Master Timothy Scott. Make the lady a bow, Tim.”

  He made a credible attempt at a bow, then dashed back to Ellen who lifted him up and plopped him back on a stool beside the table.

  “Tim and I are making shortbreads. Is anything needed in the sitting room?”

  Starla shook her head and drifted closer. “No, just another of my headaches. I thought some tea might help.”

  “Have a seat then, child, and I’ll see to it. Now, mind you, Tim,” she said as she turned to put the kettle on, “that you press that cutter all the way down in the dough. Otherwise our biscuits won’t look right.”

  Drawing up another stool, Star perched on it, watching Tim as he carefully cut out each cookie, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration.

  “This is Miss Anderson, Tim,” Ellen called from the other side of the kitchen. “She’s visi
ting us for a few months. Mr. Travis brought her here.”

  He turned to her with a wide, gap toothed smile. “You know Mr. Travis?”

  She nodded. “Travis and I are friends, yes.”

  That seemed to increase her status greatly in the little boy’s mind. “I like him lots. He lets me pet the horses. Sometimes.” He leaned a little closer to her, as if imparting a deep secret. “And he don’t tell me to get lost like Kitty does. Kitty says I’m a mat … a mit … a mitten gated new cents.”

  Starla could see Kitty saying exactly that.

  “How’d you get hurt?” He pointed at her white sling with flour covered fingers.

  “It’s not polite to point, Timothy,” Ellen said gently, handing a cup of tea to Star. He promptly sat on both hands.

  “I fell off my horse and broke my arm, Tim.”

  “Oooo, you have your very own horse? What’s its name? What’s it look like? Can we go see it?”

  Star resisted the urge to ruffle his brown curls. Yet another horse mad boy. “Yes, I have my very own horse,” she replied, laughing. “Her name is Iris. She’s a pretty gray horse, and she’s out in the pasture now, but maybe next time you come to visit we can go out and bring her some carrots or apples. She’d like that. She’s very friendly.”

  The back door opened and Alexander came in, shutting the door quietly behind him. Tim waved doughy fingers at him over the table. His wife grabbed the boy’s hands and wiped them off.

  “Good afternoon, Alex,” Starla said with a smile.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Star. Now, who do you think this could be from?” He handed her a small, rather tattered letter. Her name was scrawled across the front in an unfamiliar hand.

  Mail? But who knows I am here?

  “I have no idea,” she said, draining the rest of the tea. Thanking him, she took the letter and headed for the front by way of the wrap around porch, avoiding the sitting room in the process. A few brave rays of the afternoon sun drifted through the trees, creating a little warm spot on the steps. Star curled up against a post and, with shaking hand, managed to open the worn paper without tearing it.