An Uncivilized Yankee

by V. V. Wedding

  He managed a weak smile. “Hello, Kitty. We were just going over to the creek in the back pasture.”

  She rode closer, ignoring Ginny’s laid back ears. “Where you and Rob used to go swimming?” Her hazel eyes were dancing with amusement. “What a perfect choice, Travis dear. Shall we go now? I am rather hungry.”

  She started off towards the meadow gate, little black mare mincing along like a show horse. With a long sigh Travis mounted up and followed her, glancing over his shoulder at Star to apologize. She didn’t look at him.

  “Star,” he started, voice trailing off when she lifted accusing eyes to him. Men were deceivers ever, they said. He thought a tear slid down her cheek before her jaw tightened, and her face closed like a door. She straightened up and rode past him without a word. But what could I possibly tell her that would ease her pain, yet not possibly cause her more pain in the future?

  It is better to ache now, he thought, steeling himself.

  Kitty, being Kitty, monopolized the conversation. The few times he asked Starla a question, she answered with monosyllables. But partway through dessert, while Kitty had her mouth full of Ellen’s famous chess pie, Star spoke up.

  “Have you made your decision yet, Travis?” she asked, voice so soft he could barely hear her. He looked over at her as she pulled up blades of dying grass, shredding them one at a time.

  “Yes, and no,” he replied, moving closer, wanting to take her in his arms and break down those blasted walls she kept putting up. “I keep changing my mind.”

  Kitty sidled up on his other side, red lips pouting prettily. “Whispering’s not very polite, you know. What haven’t you decided yet, darling?”

  He sighed. Sometimes he could have cheerfully strangled Kitty. “Whether to reenlist or not.”

  “Reenlist? Are you crazy, Travis Black? You could be wounded again, or taken prisoner, or even killed. You’ve already done your duty for the Union. It’s time you came home. Settled down.” Got married. He could almost hear the unspoken words. No, she can’t mean herself. Surely she hasn’t gotten that idea stuck in her little blonde head, has she?

  He squashed the thought and patted her hand distractedly. There were more important things to think about right now. “That’s one way of looking at it, Kitty. There are others. And you, Miss Star? What do you think?”

  She bowed her head, plucking at the grass shards that littered her skirt. “Sometimes your duty is to see things through to the bitter end.” She looked up at him then, face dark with suppressed sorrow. “Virginia can’t win now, Travis, I know that. But were I still there, I would not desert her.”

  She paused at his shocked expression, and waved a dismissing hand in Kitty’s direction. “She already knows who I am, so I can say what I like. If you want to know my opinion, that’s it. ‘In for a penny, in for a pound,’ as my Grandpapa Anderson used to say.” She rose rather unsteadily to her feet, brushed at the remaining stems, and gathered up her hat and gloves. “Now, if you’ll please excuse me, I think I’ll head back to the house. I don’t feel at all well.”

  She felt Travis’ eyes on her as she stumbled over to Iris and mounted. Somehow she kept her spine stiff until the creek disappeared from view. Only then did she slump in the saddle and let the tears flow.

  You idiot. You little fool. Couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you? Talking about duty. Of course he’ll do his duty. It’s part of his very nature. But he’d be safe if he didn’t go back. Out there, on the field, every day is a gamble for survival, a gamble he might not win. Especially not with you as a friend. It’s not like you have any chance of winning him anyhow, a great gawky girl like you, compared to the perfect little Katherine Scott. And even if he did by some miracle have feelings for you, do you think he would bring shame on his family by marrying a Rebel?

  The wind dried her tears on her cheeks. Arriving back at the house, she cared for Iris numbly, then snuck inside, up the stairs into her room, and cried herself to sleep.

  It was his last full day. Travis desperately wanted to get Star alone long enough to apologize for yesterday, now that he knew what was bothering her. She hadn’t come down to supper last night. Caro had gone up to check on her and said only that, “The poor lass was fair shattered,” and had fallen asleep already.

  But Fate was conspiring against him it seemed. Instead of another lovely day, the rain was coming down in buckets. Worse, while the rain didn’t stop Kitty from showing up as usual, it did trap everyone inside.

  They were in the sitting room. Mum was mending his clothes, which involved ripping out his uneven repairs and then sewing them properly. Kitty was prattling on about some thing or another. Travis nodded at appropriate times, occasionally murmured “Uh huh,” but his mind was not on her conversation. It was on Star. She sat apart from them, bundled up in the big, overstuffed armchair, and stared out the window, looking like she’d dearly love to be elsewhere.

  What are you thinking about, a chroi? he wondered. Then, blast it all, but I hate seeing you so down. You don’t know how much I wish I could say something….

  “Where’d you get this, lad?” his mother asked, interrupting his train of thought. She held up a sleeve, fingering a long, poorly mended tear.

  He was glad for the excuse to escape Kitty’s monologue. “That one? Actually, that’s a rather queer story.”

  He sensed rather than saw Star’s attention shift to him.

  “Oh, do tell, Travis,” Kitty trilled.

  “It was a few weeks ago. We were posted down along the Rapidan. Up by your home, Miss Star. Anyhow, I was doing rounds, talking to the pickets, when a sniper took a potshot at me from across the river.” He paused, still mystified about what had happened. “It would have been a lot worse, if I hadn’t—and here’s the strange part—if I hadn’t heard somebody screaming my name. So I turned towards the noise, and that’s when the Reb fired. I still can’t figure out who called me—Miss Star? Are you ill?” Without thinking he reached over and took her hand.

  Her face chalk white, she managed to choke out, “When was this?”

  Still concerned, he released her and did some figuring on his fingers. “Three weeks ago, I guess. Probably the 23rd or 24th. I remember there was a full moon that night. And you’re obviously not well! What’s wrong?”

  Star wanted to reassure him, but couldn’t. Her mind could handle only one thought at the moment. I was the one who screamed. I screamed, and you heard me. It wasn’t just a dream. Then, What is happening to me?

  Caro put down her sewing and placed a cool hand on her fevered brow. “Lass? Do you need to go lie down?”

  “I think I should,” she said, struggling to her feet. Travis was by her side in an instant, offering her his arm. Any other time she would have delighted in the chance to touch him; right now her main concern was staying upright.

  “I’ll be right up, lass,” Caro called after them as they headed upstairs. “Just let me go set the kettle on.”

  “Can I do anything for you, Miss Star?” Travis asked quietly, concern darkening his eyes.

  She halted, hand trembling on the knob to her room. Hold me, comfort me, tell me I’m not going mad….

  “No, thank you.” She gave him a tremulous smile, then slipped into the room, shutting the door securely behind her.

  The next morning came far too soon. Travis was packed and ready to leave, but still hesitated. Star hadn’t come down yet. Would she see him off? He’d wanted to speak with her the previous night, but again she’d avoided dining with the family.

  He tied Virginia in the front, then came inside and stood in the hall, debating what to do next. The squeak of the stairs lifted his hopes. He turned to watch Star making her careful way down the steps, clinging to the banister with whitening knuckles. She paused when she saw him walk forward to meet her at the bottom.

  “Miss Star,” he began, then stopped, at a loss for words. What can I tell her? Her eyes were red rimmed. It tore his heart to think she had been crying.

>   Someday, a chroi, he promised. Someday I’ll kiss away those tears.

  The clatter of hooves in the front yard and a crystalline laugh wiped a struggling smile from her lips. Her face twisted with anger and pain before becoming quite blank. Dammit, Kitty, you do have the absolute worst timing.

  I’m going to have to have words with that girl the next time I’m home, he told himself. Just in case she does have any misunderstandings as to our relationship.

  He silently offered his arm to Star and she took it, her touch as insubstantial as a ghost’s. They moved out onto the porch where Caro and Sam stood talking with Kitty. Star’s hand dropped from his coat and she backed away. He wanted to go after her, but instead strode ahead, trying to set his mind on the task at hand. His father looked at him with a steady gaze.

  “You’ve made your decision, then,” Sam stated.

  “Yes, sir. I want to see this war won.”

  Kitty gasped, and ran to him, holding him tight. “Oh, Travis! You are far too brave.”

  He carefully disentangled himself from her too warm embrace. “Goodbye, Kitty. Take care of yourself. And tell Tim I said goodbye.”

  He shook his father’s hand, kissed his mother goodbye. Lastly he stood in front of Star, who was leaning against a porch post, face composed, except for the chewing of her lower lip. He took both her hands and held them tight.

  “Thank you, Miss Star. What you said helped.”

  She just nodded, speechless, fearing any words would start the tears flowing again.

  He stared at her hard, gray eyes almost silver. “Shall I continue to write?”

  “Please,” she whispered. Let me know that you are still alive.

  He kissed her hands, then mounted up, saluted, and raced away, Ginny leaving little dust clouds behind her.

  Kitty turned and hissed at Star, “You’ve sent him back to die, Secesh witch. I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

  Star looked past her, too upset to respond to the insult, wishing he had never asked her, wishing she had said so many things before he left, wishing the war were already over.

  “I know. I know better than you ever could. But I also know Travis—he could not have lived with himself had he not gone back.”

  16. A Change Of Heart

  April 2, 1864

  Starla ran her dust cloth lightly over the worn ivory keys of the piano, thoughts not really on the task at hand. Caro looked over at her from where she and Kitty sat making paper chains.

  “Do you play, lass?”

  She stared down at the keyboard, a twisted smile on her lips. “No. Mother tried to teach me, but I was never interested in such sedate pastimes.”

  Kitty stood up, stretched her tiny frame, and flounced over to the piano. “I play,” she announced, seating herself and letting her fingers dance over the keys. The plaintive notes of “Kathleen Mavourneen” flowed out. She tilted her pale head up at Star, eyes brightly malicious. “This is one of Travis’ favorite songs. Did you know he also played the piano?”

  Star shook her head, turning away before she strangled the little cat. No. Where would I have gleaned that piece of information? Although General Stuart would have been more than happy to press Travis into service if he had known he was musically inclined.

  She took Kitty’s place with paste and paper. Caro leaned over and whispered, “Don’t let her annoy you, lass. I think under her arrogance our Miss Katherine is a bit insecure and needs large amounts of attention to reassure herself.”

  Star lifted a slender brow, but said nothing. Instead she picked up one end of the chain, stretching it across the polished floor. “Would you like me to hang the chains for you, Caro?” Seeing how I’m the tallest one here. Might as well put my miserable height to a good use.

  Caro nodded, then bent back over her work. Star proceeded to drape the multicolored chains about what the Blacks jokingly referred to as their “ballroom”. Her thoughts were not pleasant. She had understood Kitty’s thrust quite well, yet another reminder that she could never know Travis as well as the petite blonde did. For the past six months she had withstood the constant sniper fire from her enemy, all in the same vein. This is Travis’ favorite song, this is Travis’ favorite dessert, this is where Travis and I used to go blackberry picking. The shots went on and on, and Star was almost to the point of defeat.

  I can not stand much more of this, was her dark thought. I’m either going to have to leave, or else I shall murder that little….

  “Starla? Would you run upstairs and get the good table linens for Ellen to press? They’re in—”

  Kitty interrupted, scooting the bench away from the piano and heading for the stairs. “I’ll show her, Caro.” To where Star stood like a tall shadow, she said, “I know this house as well as I know my own.”

  Only much practice kept her from wincing at the solid hit. This house is my house, its family my family.

  The linens were on a top shelf. Kitty leaned against the doorjamb as Starla pulled down the pile of white cloths and napkins.

  “I heard that old Mr. Snyder lost his position at the hotel last week.”

  Star stiffened, anticipating another attack.

  “It seems that his son wasn’t in the army after all. Leastways, not our army. People in town still are rather bitter about how your friends behaved last summer. It’s probably just as well that he’s a widower already. Mrs. Snyder was my piano teacher, and I know she could never have borne the shame.” She paused. Star could almost hear her sharpening her claws. “You know,” she said nonchalantly, “I wonder what people would do if they knew who Major Black’s cousin really was.”

  Star’s blood froze for an instant, then flamed hot. She whirled around, arms full of linens, eyes alight with battle fury, and advanced on a very startled Kitty.

  “Listen you here, Katherine Scott. I care little what you say to me, but if one whisper from your vicious little tongue brings the least suspicion on the Blacks, I will permanently disable it. I have the ability to do so. Do you disbelieve me?”

  Kitty backed away from her in a hurry, shaking her head.

  “Good, then we understand each other. Now, you take these down to Ellen.” She dropped the tablecloths in the smaller girl’s unprotesting arms. “I have better things to do than to stand here and listen to your petty threats all day long.”

  She turned away and stalked down the hall to her room, back straight as a ramrod. Once the door shut, she kicked at a wall, threw several pillows about harmlessly. But her protective anger soon melted, and she began to weep silently. I can’t stay any longer. I cannot. I refuse to have my heart shattered again and again, and I will not keep the Blacks at risk. Not from Kitty. She greatly doubted even someone as vindictive as Katherine Scott would endanger the family she seemed so anxious to marry into. But Gettysburg had suffered, from the battle and repeated raiding. She was sure it needed only one angry tongue to turn the town against them.

  I am well now. I can leave. I will leave. She hauled out her battered old saddlebags, and proceeded to pack them, sniffling as she did.

  Her watery gaze focused on her bed. There, spread carefully across the quilted spread, was a beautiful gown of blue and gray striped satin. She remembered Caro’s mischievous smile when showing her the fabric, pulled from her magic attic. “Yours and ours,” she’d said.

  Starla had never worn anything quite so lovely, not even before her life had turned upside down. The dress was for tonight, for Caro Black’s birthday. In honor of that event, the Blacks had decided to hold a benefit dance, the proceeds to help support local widows and orphans.

  I can’t leave tonight, she thought. That would be too inconsiderate. Besides, deep inside, she wanted more than anything to wear that dress, to see if perhaps she could possibly look as beautiful as her golden haired rival.

  Pushing her saddlebags back under the bed, she stroked the fabric with a hesitant hand. Then, exhausted by her outburst, and with the beginnings of a crashing headache, she lay down besid
e the dress and fell asleep.

  “Rob? How long do you think this’ll take?”

  “Not sure. Burnett thinks all his horse needs is new shoes, but I have my doubts. If we have to find him a remount it may take a while. They said the farrier would be back within the hour. We’ll find out then. Why?”

  “One, I’m anxious to get home. Two, I really don’t like the looks of that group,” Travis answered with a tip of his head towards a knot of road worn teamsters. Watching them closely for another moment, he slipped off his jacket, hung it carefully on a nearby fencepost, and began to roll up his shirt sleeves. “As for the horse, you might as well tell John to start looking for a new one if he wants to continue with the rest of us, because his horse isn’t going anywhere. Told me he wasn’t going to budge an inch from that stable unless it caught fire.”

  His brother’s expression became skeptical.

  A sigh. “Look, Rob, you know I’m not lying to you. I can talk to the blasted horse. You’ve known that since we were what, seven and ten?”

  “Six and nine,” Rob corrected without thinking.

  Travis grinned. “Hah! Caught you. And—oh, blast. Here comes trouble.”

  The man lurching towards them was red faced, as wide as he was tall, and decidedly drunk. He planted himself in front of Rob, hacked up a wad of phlegm, and spat it noisily onto Rob’s boots.

  “An’ that’s wut I think of offisures,” the man declared loudly. His companions hooted appreciatively.

  Rob’s brown eyes widened, and his brows lowered, but all he said was, “Fascinating statement,” in a cool tone, and turned away.

  His antagonist’s face grew redder, becoming a bright cherry color when the drunken laughter of his friends reached him. “Hey, I wasn’t done wid you,” he growled.